Father and Son
by catfic
Summary: The romance between Wheeler and Linka is slowly starting to warm up when a family crisis calls the Fire Planeteer back to New York.
1. Chapter 1

"Wheeler – phone."

Kwame entered the communal hut, and smiled at what he saw. Ma-Ti and Wheeler lay on the rug, immersed in a game of Scrabble. Ma-Ti was frowning with concentration, Suchi perched on one shoulder.

"This game is too much like hard work," Wheeler complained, getting up. "Linka, play for me."

The blonde Russian looked up from her notes and smiled. "How do you know I will not sabotage you?"

"You wouldn't do that, babe," said Wheeler confidently. His eyes held hers for a moment, and there was warmth in her expression.

"Fine, Yankee. I'll make you a fantastic word and win you the game."

"That's my girl."

_That's my girl._ How often had he wanted to say that, and not have her instantly go on the defensive? Now all she did was smile as she settled down on the rug in his place.

"Do you think I'm going to hold out this phone all day?" said Kwame. "My arm is getting tired and I want to pour a drink."

"Sorry, man." Wheeler took the receiver. "Hello?"

"Jay." The voice on the other end was weak. Wheeler's smile disappeared, and he quickly left the hut to talk outside.

"Mom?"

Through the window he could see Kwame laughing at something Gi had said.

"Jacob, when are you going to come home?"

"Mom, I told you …" Wheeler turned his back to the windows and lowered his voice. "I can't right now."

"But Jay, you have to come back. I don't know how long he's …"

"I'll call you later, Mom," Wheeler said quickly, then paused. "Are you okay?"

Silence on the other end.

"Mom?"

"I need you to come back. I can't do this on my own."

Wheeler heard a faint noise behind him, and turned around. Gi was walking towards him with a glass of juice.

"I'll call you tonight. Gotta go."

He clicked the phone off, and summoned up a smile for his friend.

"Hey! Great service around here. Cute waitresses, too."

"Yeah, sure." Gi punched him lightly on the arm. "Your favourite cute waitress just won you your game."

"Seriously? That's great. I can't imagine Ma-Ti's too pleased, though."

"No – especially since the winning word was 'quirky' on a double word score." Gi laughed. "Who was that?"

"Oh … just my Mom." They started walking back towards the hut.

"She's been calling a lot lately. Everything okay?"

"Oh yeah." Wheeler smiled, thrusting his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, everything's fine."

"Your Dad?"

"Fine."

Gi examined her friend's profile. His jaw was set in that stubborn look she knew so well. She would get nothing more out of him at the moment, and knew better than to try.

"All right. So long as you're sure."

They went back inside. Linka was still supine on the rug, her long legs stretched out behind her. She shot Wheeler a laughing glance.

"Did you hear the news, Yankee?"

"I sure did!" He crouched down beside her, relishing her nearness and the elusive floral scent of her hair. "Nice work. We make a good team."

"_Da_. We do."

Wheeler straightened up and stretched out his hand to help her stand. She stayed within the circle of his arms for a moment longer than was necessary, and her fingers lingered within his. She reached up and felt the curl of his dark red hair on his shirt collar.

"You need a haircut."

"I always need a haircut. It's my trademark. Gives you something to run your fingers through."

Linka tugged on a strand of hair. "Don't be so …"

"What? Confident? Disarmingly honest? Magnetic?"

"Not the words I was looking for."

"Your winning word then. Quirky."

"_Da_, that seems appropriate."

"Are you eating lunch or not?" said Gi in her bossiest tone. She was tossing her special-recipe dressing into a green salad.

"Yeah, yeah, we're coming." Wheeler smiled down into Linka's eyes.

_Later, babe. You just wait. You, me, a bottle of wine and a black-and-white movie._

She smiled back. Sometimes Wheeler could swear she had Ma-Ti's powers of perception. Linka would have been amused to know this – he didn't know how readily his face betrayed his thoughts. It was one of the things she loved about him. Wheeler was many things, but he would never be untrustworthy or secretive. It just wasn't in his nature.

"Who was on the phone, Wheeler?" she asked.

"Uh …my Mom. Just checking in, you know how it is."

They sat on the benches that lined the long table. Gi had finished with the dressing and was fussing over the bread rolls.

"How is she?"

"Good, good, as always." Wheeler avoided her eye. "Hey, Gi, this is really good."

"Of course it is." Gi tossed her hair, laughing.

XXXXXXX

Linka climbed into bed, exhausted and happy. It was well after midnight – she and Wheeler had stayed up after the others watching _Casablanca_. The romantic atmosphere was only slightly marred by Wheeler's need to say everything in a Humphrey Bogart voice.

She tied up her hair in a long braid and pulled the covers up, snuggling down into the pillow. This was her favourite part of the night – going over the evening in her head before she went to sleep. Smiling, she closed her eyes.

"Psst!"

She sighed and turned her head slightly, on the edge of sleep.

"Pssssst!" The noise was louder, and more insistent. Linka opened her eyes and yawned.

A soft knock on the door.

"_Bozhe moy,"_ Linka grumbled as she swung her legs out of bed. "Don't tell me there's an eco-emergency now! Kwame, if that's you, it can wait till morning."

She opened the door to find a familiar tall form silhouetted against the moonlight. She couldn't see Wheeler's face but she could hear the sheepish grin in his voice.

"Um … hi."

"Yankee!" Linka tried to sound stern. "What are you doing? It is the middle of the night!"

"But you only went to bed five minutes ago!"

"That is not the point. This is my bedroom. Go find your own." She turned to go back inside.

"Linka."

She paused. There was a plea in his voice.

"Could I come in for just a minute? No fooling around, I promise. I just don't want to be on my own just yet."

Linka looked searchingly at him – a pointless exercise since she couldn't make out his face.

"Okay, Yankee," she decided. "For a few minutes."

Wheeler couldn't help smiling as he followed Linka in. Sometimes he quite enjoyed her prudish streak. Of course, sometimes he also found it unbelievably frustrating.

Linka turned on her lamp and rubbed her eyes.

"That is so bright! Here." She tossed him a cushion. "Sit on this."

Wheeler settled himself on the ridiculously small cushion. Silk and embroidered with tiny hummingbirds, it was a birthday present Gi had bought for her friend in Japan. Linka smiled at the sight of the tall American trying to make himself comfortable. Finally he sat still, his knees drawn up under his chin.

"Is something the matter, Wheeler?"

Wheeler looked down. The lamplight cast a shadow on his eyes. He traced a pattern on the cushion with one finger. "No."

Linka raised an eyebrow. Fine. He was hopeless at keeping secrets. Sooner or later he would cave in and confess.

"Then you won't mind if I get back into bed." She climbed between the covers again and rested her head on the pillow.

Wheeler smiled. "You look too cute…"

Linka raised a warning finger. "No closer, Yankee!"

"Fine." He reached for the pile of books sitting at her bedside and started to rifle through. "Geez … you really don't believe in light reading, do you?"

Linka watched his eyes as he read. Their usual startling blueness was shaded to a deep grey in the dim light. He reached up a hand to brush a strand of hair out of his face, and she admired the strength of his tanned arm. He glanced up at her, his eyes mischievous, and she blushed.

"Well, I am not going to sit here watching you play with my things," she said loftily. "I am going to sleep. Turn the light off when you leave. And don't do anything bad!"

Wheeler opened his mouth to make a dirty remark, then thought better of it. The Russian had too many cushions that could be used as ammunition.

"So it's okay if I just sit here for a while?"

"Yes, it's okay." Linka rolled over and faced the wall. Wheeler smiled at her back.

"Thanks, babe."

XXXXXXX

At quarter to three, Wheeler awoke with a start. His cellphone was blinking at him in the darkness. Six voicemail messages! Thank God he had it on silent. Stretching his cramped limbs he reached out for the lamp switch. Just before he turned it off, he looked at Linka. Her cheeks flushed with sleep, her lips slightly parted, her chest rising and falling with each quiet breath. He bent down and lightly brushed her cheek with his lips. She murmured softly.

"Night, hon."

Wheeler clicked off the light and made his way to the door. Hope Island was illuminated by an eerie half-moon that made the palm trees seem silvery and ethereal. He could hear crickets, and beyond them, the gentle roll and splash of waves breaking on the beach.

Six messages.

Should he listen to them?

He took out his phone again.

It wouldn't hurt to listen to one. After all, they'll just be the same old thing, right?

He raised it to his ear.

A few minutes later, Wheeler was still standing there. His body was tensed. Then, without a sound, he spun round and headed for his bedroom. He pulled out a bag, tossed it onto the bed and started to fill it. When it was stuffed full of clothes, he sat at his desk and wrote a note on a piece of paper. He made his way to Kwame's hut, and slid the paper under the door.

"Sorry guys," he muttered as he made his way to the Geocruiser. "I'll bring it back."

XXXXXXX

In her sleep, Linka tossed her head and said something incoherent. Her hand opened and closed as if she was trying to grasp something – but then she lay silent and still once more.


	2. Chapter 2

It was Kwame's turn to make breakfast. This didn't bother the young African as much as it did Wheeler – the American really struggled to get up and out of bed by seven, but Kwame was up at five-thirty as a matter of course. He didn't even need an alarm clock – years of early rising had tuned his internal clock perfectly, and his eyes opened of their own accord.

Smiling, he swung his legs out of bed and onto the wooden floor. Today was going to be good. So far there was nothing planned for the day, and if his luck held there would be no eco-crises to distract him from his beloved garden. If he was feeling especially self-indulgent, he might even make a trip in the Cruiser to get some new plants.

The sun had just started to rise, and the first birds were calling. Kwame loved this time of day – it reminded him of growing up in Africa, and heading out to the fields with his friends for a hard day's work. He never really felt easy in his conscience unless he could hit the pillow at the end of the day feeling as if he had achieved something with his time. Whistling lightly, he strode through the dew-damp grass to his vegetable plot.

"These tomatoes are almost falling off the vine, they are so ripe," he said to himself. "I shall grill them for breakfast." He picked one, lovingly feeling the taut skin. There was something about the soil on Hope Island that made everything grow faster and bigger than anywhere else. Gaia's influence was strong.

Kwame was just about to make his way to the communal hut when he paused, puzzled. Something didn't seem right about the landscape. What was it? He looked around. No, everything seemed …

The Geocruiser!

XXXXXXX

Linka stirred in her sleep. A pleasant dream about flying with a flock of seagulls had been invaded by strange noises and shapes. The floating dream-Linka stopped swooping around the landscape and trod air.

"_Linka!" _A familiar face appeared in the sky. "_Wake up!"_

"_Ma-Ti?"_

This wasn't the first time the young man had entered her dreams in order to wake her up gently. Most of the time his presence was innocuous, but once Linka had been in the middle of a particularly steamy dream when he made an appearance. He had been too embarrassed to talk to her for days, and since then he had been a lot more careful.

With an effort, Linka shook off her dream and surfaced.

"What is it?" she asked groggily. "Have I slept through my alarm?"

This was unlikely – she was so anxious to be up in time that she set two different alarm clocks. If she didn't go for a run first thing in the morning, she was grumpy for the rest of the day.

"Linka, have you seen Wheeler?"

"_Nyet_ – why would I have seen him?" she said. "It's too early. He won't even be awake. What time is it, anyway?"

"Six-thirty. Linka, the Geocruiser's gone and so has Wheeler."

Linka sat up, suddenly wide awake. "I'm sure there's an explanation …"

"I'm sure there is too, but he isn't giving it to us." Ma-Ti shook his head. "Kwame woke me up as soon as he noticed Wheeler was missing. I have tried to contact him, but it's like he's blocking me out."

"Ma-Ti, he is an adult. I think he is allowed to go for a drive without consulting us."

Linka spoke carelessly, but she was a little worried. She glanced at her phone surreptitiously – no messages.

"He was acting a little strangely yesterday," said Ma-Ti, sitting on the end of her bed. "And his mother has been calling more often than usual."

Linka thought back to the previous evening. He had seemed a little preoccupied. But surely he would tell her if he was going anywhere? Particularly since they were …

Well, since they were …

Not exactly a couple, but still …

"I'm sure he's fine, Ma-Ti," she said, more snappishly than she had intended. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go for a run. My bedroom is not the new hang-out for male Planeteers, thank you very much!"

XXXXXXX

The Planeteers ate their breakfast in silence. Gi was working her way through her second cup of organic coffee. There was a pall over the table, and everyone looked half-asleep.

"Typical Wheeler," said Gi with a sigh. "Wanders off when it's his turn to clean the bathrooms. I suppose we had better tell Gaia that he's vanished."

Linka was playing with her grilled tomato, poking it with a fork. "He hasn't vanished, he's just gone out for a while. I'm sure he will be back any minute."

"Has anyone tried his phone?" asked Gi. She and Kwame exchanged glances. The Planeteers were so used to the luxury of their almost-telepathic communications that they often neglected the humble mobile phone.

"I have," said Linka sulkily, still poking at the tomato. "It was switched off."

Suchi ran into the kitchen, chittering loudly, and jumped onto Ma-Ti's shoulder.

"Hello, little friend." Ma-Ti reached up to pat him, and discovered something clenched in the monkey's paws. "What have you got there?"

He unfolded the crumpled bit of paper.

"Hey, this is from Wheeler!"

"What?"

The Planeteers gathered round.

"Suchi must have taken this from my bedroom this morning!" said Kwame, slapping his forehead.

"This is from Wheeler, all right," said Linka, recognizing the untidy scrawl and the flourish of the signature.

_K_

_Had to go home. Have taken the Cruiser, sorry. Will call when reach NY. _

_W._

"Well, it's succinct," the young African remarked. He sat down again and poured himself a cup of herbal tea. "So there's no need to worry."

"Do you guys feel like going for a swim?" said Gi. "I want to check on that dolphin pod."

"Sounds good," said Ma-Ti, getting up.

Linka stood still. "But why has he gone home?"

Gi placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Probably to see his dad. We've been telling him to for ages. Don't worry, Linka – he'll call us when he gets there. It's going to take him a few hours. Meanwhile, we've got a whole day of free time ahead of us, for once. Let's enjoy it. You coming?"

"_Nyet…_I think I will just read for a while." Linka's hand felt for her cellphone, nestled snugly in the pocket of her jeans. "I will catch up with you later."

XXXXXXX

Wheeler yawned widely and took his hands off the controls for a moment to stretch his arms. He'd kill for a cup of coffee. Still, within two hours there would be a Starbucks on every corner. He could wait.

A familiar face shimmered into view in front of him.

"Gaia!" Wheeler leaned back a little. "Wasn't expecting to see you."

The Spirit of the Earth raised one delicately penciled eyebrow. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay, Wheeler. Is everything all right? Is it your father?"

"Everything's fine," Wheeler said glibly, but his smile faltered when Gaia fixed him with an unimpressed stare.

"Look, Gaia … I don't really want to talk about it now, but I promise I'll get in touch when I'm on the ground, okay?"

"All right." Gaia accepted this with her usual forbearance. "You're due a break, anyway – you've all been working very hard. But don't forget to check in when you get there so we know that you arrived safely. Linka is worried. "

The image of Gaia's face faded and disappeared. Wheeler felt a glow somewhere beneath his ribs. Linka was worried? Linka. He remembered her sleeping face with a pang. She was so not going to be impressed that he had left without saying goodbye.

"_The hospital … asking for you …the doctors say ..."_

The memory of his mother's voice intruded on his thoughts. Dammit. Don't think about it now. Just concentrate on flying this thing.

On second thoughts, put her on autopilot and make a coffee. Better plan.

XXXXXXX

Linka lay in a hammock under the palm trees. Her book was open in front of her, but she hadn't turned a page for over an hour.

Why hadn't he said what was bothering him? Didn't he trust her? She could picture him sitting on that ridiculous silk cushion, playing with the tassels and avoiding her gaze. She should have _made_ him tell her. She and Wheeler had always had a tempestuous relationship, to put it mildly, but lately … she smiled involuntarily. Well, since Linka had left the group and gone back to Russia, and Wheeler had followed her and brought her back, there had been a subtle shift in the situation. Something had changed, moving them beyond flirtation and bickering to a deeper, warmer emotion. She could remember it so clearly – that point where she had leaned forward, grasped his shirt collar and brought his head down to meet hers in a long kiss.

The expression on his face had been priceless. She couldn't help giggling, even now – months later.

Since then, Wheeler had eased off his relentless pursuit a little and let Linka dictate the pace, and things were slowly developing into … what? She didn't know. There was hardly any further advance on the physical side of things – Linka had shocked herself a little with her own boldness and needed to take a step back – but no one was pretending that they were 'just friends' anymore.

Linka shifted position and exhaled loudly. She was starting to get very annoyed – that special brand of annoyed that only Wheeler could bring out in her. That mixture of fondness and exasperation, where she didn't know whether to kiss him or punch him. Usually she went with the latter.

Enough thinking! She slammed the book shut. She was wasting the day lying here worrying about that stupid Yankee. She would show him that she didn't care if he went away without telling her – she would enjoy herself in spite of it.

Still, she wished he would call.


	3. Chapter 3

Wheeler touched down on the roof of his apartment building, feeling a little smug. Parking may be a problem in New York city, but not when you had wings.

The sky was grey-blue and clouded, the colour of stone-washed denim. When Wheeler opened the door of the Geocruiser, traffic fumes floated up to meet him. He could taste petrol. A few blocks away, the siren of a ghost-car wailed.

Yes, he was definitely home.

He swung his bag out of the bag and over his shoulder, then locked the doors. A metal service door on the roof led down to the stairwell (as Wheeler knew from many teenage nights spent drinking up here), and he headed towards it. That familiar smell of cigarette smoke, stale urine and something sharp and chemical made him cough.

"Man," he thought, "Hope Island has really spoilt me. I need to harden up."

He climbed down the service ladder and reached the top floor. The building seemed smaller than he remembered, as it did every time he returned. His sneakers sounded loud on the bare floor. With every step that brought him closer to the door of his mother's apartment, the sick feeling in his stomach grew.

And there it was.

Just an ordinary door, painted red and flaking in places, with a fish-eye piece of glass set in the centre. Wheeler hesitated for a moment, then knocked loudly.

"Mom!"

His voice echoed.

"Mom, I'm here!"

Something indistinct was said inside, and he heard the sound of a bolt drawing back. The door opened a crack, a chain restraining it, and he saw his mother's blue eyes – so like his own.

"Jacob!"

She unhooked the chain and opened the door, in his arms before he could even put down his bag. She felt small and bony and fragile.

"Mom." He kissed the top of her head, marveling at how much shorter she seemed. She smelled of peppermint and lemon; sharp, fresh scents.

"I'm glad you're here." His mother drew back a little and cupped his face in her hands. He could feel the coolness of her wedding ring against his right cheek. "Look at you."

Her eyes were bright, and she was smiling, but her face was drawn and pale. New lines had appeared around her mouth since he last saw her, and her red hair (so similar to his own), was scraped back in a messy ponytail.

"Are you okay, Mom?" he asked, gently taking her hands in his.

"I'm fine. Come in. Can I make you anything?"

The apartment was clean but bare. Wheeler dumped his bag by the kitchen counter and sat on the edge of the couch, resting his elbows on his knees. He still felt uncomfortable in this place, even when his father wasn't here.

His father.

Don't think about it!

He snapped his thoughts back to the present. His mother was bustling in the kitchen, fixing him a glass of milk.

"Would you like a sandwich, honey?"

"No thanks, Mom. Come sit down."

She came reluctantly, rubbing her hands together nervously, and perched on the chair opposite him. Wheeler tried to catch her eye.

"Mom – how's Dad?"

She tried to smile. "He's not too bad, honey. I spent last night with him, then came back here so I could meet you. I'm going back soon, if you want to come?"

Wheeler was silent.

"He would love to see you."

"Sure."

"He would, Jay."

Wheeler ran his hand through his hair. "So his liver finally gave out completely?"

She nodded. "He's unconscious. On a machine."

"Oh God." Wheeler covered his face with his hands, then resolutely looked up again. "How are you, Mom? No bullshit, please."

His mother gestured helplessly. "I don't know. I'm just so tired …." Her voice broke. Wheeler crossed the room and sat beside her.

"Mom …" he said it with difficulty. "Mom, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't here for you."

"Oh, Jay … you have an important job. You…"

"No." He shook his head violently. "No, that's no reason. I could have come home more often. I just … but that's going to change now, I promise, Mom." He hugged her tightly, his eyes wet with unshed tears. "I promise."

XXXXXXX

Linka tried the number again, willing him to pick up. She had deliberately left her phone in her room for the past few hours and headed down to the beach with the others – but now, alone in her room, she tried again.

Dial tone. The staccato beep as it dialed the number.

"Come on, Wheeler," she said under her breath. He must be in New York by now, and he still hadn't called as he had promised he would.

The line was busy.

Linka clicked the phone off in frustration, and threw it onto her bed. Fine. She pulled on a sweater – the evening dew was falling, and it was a little chilly – and marched to the communal hut where Ma-Ti was preparing dinner.

"Linka!" he greeted her as she came in. "Would you mind stirring that pot? I have run out of hands."

His face was flushed, his long hair tied back.

"No problem, Ma-Ti," Linka replied, glad of something to do. "Where are Kwame and Gi?"

"Wheeler just called," Ma-Ti said casually. "They are talking to him."

"What?" Linka said sharply. A drop of boiling water jumped from the pot onto her hand, and she winced.

"So he must have arrived safely," Ma-Ti went on, blithely unaware of her discomfort. "That's good news. Kwame is worried about the Geocruiser, though."

Linka turned her attention to the stove. "Oh."

"I think he might take the Eco-copter there with one of us and drive it back – that is, if Wheeler's planning to stay longer."

"Mmm."

"I hope everything's all right."

"Mmm."

Ma-Ti glanced at his friend. Her back was turned to him. "How's that pasta coming?"

"Fine," she said curtly.

Kwame entered the hut, smiling, followed by Gi. "That was Wheeler," he said cheerfully. "He arrived in one piece."

"Oh?" said Linka casually. "What did he say?"

"Just that he was fine, and that he's planning to stay for a few days."

"A few days? But we'll need the Cruiser," said Linka.

"That's what I thought. I'm going to take the Eco-copter tomorrow and go there with Gi to pick it up."

"I think I will come too," Linka said, crossing her arms defensively.

"In that case, I'll stay here," said Gi. "I want to keep an eye on those dolphins – at least until the calf is born."

"Okay," shrugged Kwame.

"And did he say anything else?" Linka enquired. "How did he sound?"

"He sounded normal," said the young African, a little doubtfully.

"Did you ask him what was wrong?"

"I did not want to pry."

That was typical of Kwame – he was reserved himself, and respected the other Planeteers' privacy. Usually Linka sympathized with this and found it admirable, but today it was maddening.

"I got the impression it was his Dad," Gi broke in. "It's not like Wheeler to be so secretive. If anything, he usually gives you way too much information."

"He talked to you too?"

"Yes, just a bit."

Linka spun around and turned her attention to the stove, seething inwardly. "Oh."

Ma-Ti felt the waves of irritation emanating from his friend, and thought now would be a good time to step in.

"If that pasta's ready, we can eat," he said quietly. He laid a hand on Linka's shoulder, and squeezed it gently.

XXXXXXX

Wheeler stood in the doorway of the bar, looking for a familiar face. His mother was at the hospital, but he wasn't ready to go quite yet. He had tried staying in and watching some TV, but the endless bland reruns and advertising had caused him to chuck the remote at the wall in frustration – all those years living on an island had got him out of the habit of television, somehow. So, he had a quick shower, dressed in jeans and a black shirt (leaving his Planeteer shirt lying under the bed like a guilty secret) and headed to one of his old hangouts.

The place had got trendier. Waitresses in black with sharp, asymmetrical haircuts wove through the crowd carrying trays of Martini glasses. The music was some pulsing, European beat.

Wheeler made his way to the bar. Being tall was an advantage here – he looked straight over the head of the girl in front.

"Could I just get a Coke?"

"Sure, buddy."

The dark head beneath Wheeler's looked up, with some difficulty.

"Hey, could you move back? You're kinda crowding me here."

"Sorry." Wheeler stepped back a little, giving the girl a chance to turn round.

"I haven't seen you in here before, have I?" she said, narrowing her eyes. She leaned back against the bar, resting her elbows on it.

"Uh … probably not," Wheeler replied. The barman handed him his drink. "Thanks."

"What are you drinking?"

"Just a Coke."

"You want some rum in that?" The girl held up a silver hip flask.

Wheeler laughed. "No, thank you."

He started to turn away, but she grabbed his arm. "Hey, where you going? You here with someone?"

He looked at her properly. About his own age, with short, dark hair in a trendy style; brown eyes, heavily made up; long legs in skinny jeans.

"No. But I'm kind of in the mood to be by myself."

The girl looked him up and down, eyeing his tall, well-built frame, his smile, his blue eyes.

"Well, I'm Monica."

She thrust out a hand. It would be rude not to shake it.

"I'm Wheeler."

"You in town for a while?"

"Maybe."

"I'm here most nights. See you round, maybe."

She turned back to the bar with studied casualness, tilting her hips to show them off to best advantage.

"Yeah, see you."

Wheeler walked away, shaking his head, then became aware of an insistent shrilling noise above the music. His phone? He pulled it out and looked at the screen.

Linka.

He fought his way outside into the chill air.

"Linka? You there, babe?"

Her voice was distant and indistinct.

"Hey, I'm sorry I didn't get to talk to you earlier …"

"….tomorrow …" said her voice, followed by something he couldn't catch. Wheeler stood hugging his thick coat close against the cold, wishing she was near.

"Look, you're breaking up, I can't hear you. I'll try get a better signal, okay?"

The dial tone sounded in his ear.

"Goddam it!"

He kicked at a lamp post in frustration, causing a group of nearby girls to start giggling.

"Hey." A voice from the doorway. Monica was standing there, balancing a drink in one hand. "You forgot your Coke."

"Oh …" Wheeler ran a hand through his hair. "Thanks."

"I took the liberty of doctoring it a little. Can't have you drinking something soft, a big boy like you."

Wheeler hesitated. Should he try calling Linka again? He might get a better signal at the apartment … but he so didn't want to talk about anything right now. And Linka would see right through his bland answers to the reality. She knew him far too well. That's why he had avoided speaking to her earlier.

And the last thing he wanted was to go back to that damn apartment.

Or, worst of all, to the hospital.

He made a quick decision, and stepped forward. God knew, he deserved to kick back a little tonight. Tomorrow was going to be a tough day.

"Thanks. Monica, isn't it?"


	4. Chapter 4

The sunlight hit Wheeler's closed eyes, turning everything bright red and making him groan. He shifted position slightly, but couldn't get comfortable. After a minute of fuzzy, half-asleep thought, he realized that this was because something heavy was lying across his legs.

Where was he?

He jolted to wakefulness with a start. His head was throbbing, he could smell alcohol, and his stomach really wasn't feeling all that happy. He snapped his eyes open. A ceiling, striped with sunlight. A wall covered in theatre posters. A sofa – that was what he was lying on. He sat upright, clutching his head, and stared down at his legs. A girl. Sitting on the floor, her head on his knees. She was deeply asleep.

Who the hell was that?

A name floated up. Monica.

Wheeler rubbed his temples and tried to remember. They were both fully clothed, thank God. A snort from across the room alerted him to the presence of another two people, a couple of guys, who had obviously crashed on the floor. Try as he might, he couldn't remember who they were or how he had got there.

He lifted Monica's head gently off his knee and pulled his legs away. He was stiff and sore. The memory of the previous day rushed back.

Damn.

He stood up quickly, and headed for the door. What time was it? He pulled out his phone to check, and saw the blinking icon.

Oh. Holy. Shit.

Nine messages? Nine?

All a variation on a theme. He listened to them as he sprinted down the stairs of Monica's apartment, hoping she didn't live far away.

Where are you?

Are you coming home?

His mother, trying to sound casual.

Oh god, of all the things to do – get wasted on his first night in New York. As if he didn't have a great living example of where that path led.

At least, hopefully still a living example.

Wheeler stopped outside a store and looked at himself in the window. His hair was a mess, his eyes were bleary, his clothes were crumpled. Doesn't matter, he told himself sternly. Suck it up, Yankee. You can't come all this way and refuse to see him any longer.

He glanced down at his phone again. One more message. He lifted it to his ear again.

"Wheeler?" It was Linka, this time, sounding determinedly casual. Her voice, that lovely accent. He leaned against the shop window, suddenly completely worn out. "You're probably in bed. I didn't want to disturb you. Just … wanted you to know that I am coming to New York with Kwame. So hopefully I will see you."

There was a silence.

"Anyway, hope everything is going well. _Dasvidanya_."

A click.

She sounded so stilted. Not that he could blame her. Wheeler groaned loudly, startling a passerby.

Right. Coffee, breakfast, a shower and several apologies. And then … the hospital.

XXXXXXX

Linka packed carefully, taking only the essentials. Gi sat on the end of the bed, watching her.

"Are you planning to be away for a while?" she asked. "I thought the whole idea was to bring the Cruiser back."

"I have been thinking about that," said Linka. She sat beside her friend. "I know you want to stay, Gi, but please will you come with us?"

Her green eyes pleaded with her friend's brown ones.

"Well … sure, I guess I can. But why?"

"Something's not right with Wheeler. I think it's more serious than he was letting on." Linka brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "I might need to stay with him for a while."

G lifted her eyebrows in surprise. This was the closest that Linka had ever come to admitting a closer bond with Wheeler than the other Planeteers. Not that they hadn't known it, of course, but still.

"Of course I'll come," Gi said. "In fact, we should ask Ma-Ti, too. Make a real trip out of it. Why not, after all?"

Suddenly taken with the idea, she sprung up and headed for the door. "I'll go pack. And ask Ma-Ti. And tell Gaia. She won't mind – she's been saying we need a holiday. See you in half an hour!"

Waving, she disappeared. Linka smiled at her warm-hearted friend's impulsiveness, then turned her attention back to her packing. Gi was like Wheeler in so many ways – generous, open, quick to forgive.

Wheeler.

The thought brought him into her mind, and she felt a pang of something like homesickness. It would be good to see him again. She zipped up her bag decisively and swung it over her shoulder. Just a few more hours.

XXXXXXX

Clean-shaven, showered and sober, Wheeler opened the hospital door for his mother. She had accepted his explanation with her usual loving calm, but he felt searingly guilty. The last thing she needed was two drunks in one family.

He didn't know where she got this strength from – how she had survived all these years. Had she always been like this? He remembered her sobbing in the kitchen one morning as she struggled to make the coffee. He must have been, what, six? Seven? He had clung to her, puzzled and scared.

Yeah, well, he soon found out what the matter was, thought Wheeler cynically. His father had made sure of that. All the mysterious bruises, the crying, the strange, muffled night-time noises … everything was explained. He could still smell the faint scent of alcohol on his skin, and it sickened him. How could he even touch the stuff at a time like this? After everything he had seen?

They entered the lift and stood in silence as it whirred up through the floors. Nine … and ten.

"Here we are," said his mother brightly. The doors slid open into a white, chemically clean world. Wheeler followed her down the passage, watched as she exchanged smiles and 'good morning'-s with the nurses. He felt his face set in an impassive stare, his jaw clenched. Every muscle in his body grew tense. The throbbing in his head grew more pronounced.

And then, suddenly, there he was. That man who so often had seemed ten-foot tall, a fire-breathing monster, the boogey-man. Small, pale and old-looking on a white hospital bed, hooked up to a machine. Wheeler had a sudden, vivid memory. His own fist, flying out towards his father's jaw in almost slow motion. The crack as it connected. The strange sense of triumph and overwhelming guilt as the man toppled over. His mother, running to his father and clutching him, screaming at Wheeler to stop. That feeling of betrayal – surely she can't still love him, after everything? Surely she knows why I did it?

"Jay?"

Wheeler blinked. "Mom?"

"Jay, you look awfully pale." Her face was concerned; she was reaching out for him.

Wheeler felt something inside him shift, and sprinted out. Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom … this was a hospital – surely the place should be full of bathrooms? He found one, thrust the door open and ran to a cubicle, just in time. The combination of alcohol, exhaustion and emotion came tumbling out, and he flushed it away.

XXXXXXX

Ma-Ti glanced sideways at Linka. A book was open on her lap, but she was staring out the window with a faraway expression. He could feel that she was not happy, and reached out to her, trying to soothe and comfort.

"_Is everything all right, Linka?"_

She glanced at him, and smiled. There was something like sadness in her clear eyes, and Ma-Ti thought she had never looked more beautiful.

"_I am worried about Wheeler," _she confessed. Ma-Ti felt the surge of emotion that accompanied that name.

"_So am I," _he replied silently. _"The closer we get to New York, the more I feel like something is terribly wrong."_

"_I'm glad," _she said, with a laugh in her voice. _"I thought I might just be going crazy."_

"_Have you spoken to him?"_

"Nyet. _I called him early this morning, but we had a bad line. I could hear his voice, but not what he was saying."_

"_That's pretty much the experience I have had when trying to contact him," _thought Ma-Ti.

"_How can that be?"_

"_I often find it hard to talk to you clearly when your emotions are very confused. Any of you. I could try harder and break through his defences, but…" _Ma-Ti left his sentence unfinished, but Linka understood. Ma-Ti would never make his way forcibly into someone else's mind.

"It's rude to whisper," said Gi cheekily, leaning over the back of her seat to stroke Suchi. "I can tell you guys are talking about something. Out with it."

"It is nothing, Gi," said Linka. She settled back into her seat. "How much longer?"

"Another five hours, I would say," Gi replied. "I'm going to try and get some sleep."

"Good idea." Ma-Ti leaned his head back.

"Kwame, would you like a rest?" Linka asked. "I can take over for a while. I am not at all sleepy."

"Are you sure?"

"_Da_." Linka unclasped her seatbelt and made her way to the front of the Eco-copter.

"Thank you, Linka."

Kwame stood up and stretched, then made his way to the seat she had vacated. "Wake me if you need anything."

"I will."

Linka buckled up and grasped the controls. At last. She felt better now that she was actually driving the Eco-copter – she could feel the miles falling away, bringing them closer to New York. And to Wheeler.


	5. Chapter 5

Wheeler sat at his father's bedside. He felt pale, almost transparent, as if all the noises and smells of the hospital were drifting right through him … as if none of this was really happening.

His father's head was turned slightly away from them. His brown hair was mussed by the pillow, and his chest rose and fell with each shallow breath. Nick Sloane was a big man, with craggy features and a powerful build, but on the icy white of the hospital sheets he looked frail and brittle.

Wheeler clasped one of his mother's hands in his. She was almost asleep, her head nodding slightly.

"Mom?" he whispered. She stirred.

"Mmmm?"

"Mom, I think we should head home. It's almost evening."

She blinked, sat up straighter and patted down the creases in her skirt. "I think I might stay here a little longer, Jay. But you can go get something to eat if you like."

Wheeler sighed, defeated. "How about we go downstairs to the café and have something there? Then we can come straight up again."

"That's a good idea." His mother stood up, and reached out to smooth her husband's bedclothes. It made Wheeler almost angry to see the loving way she straightened the sheets. What had his father ever done to deserve this kind of devotion?

"Come on, Mom."

They headed downstairs. Wheeler suddenly realized he felt hollow, achingly hungry. He hadn't eaten since breakfast, and it was nearly five o'clock.

XXXXXXX

Five o'clock. Linka set her watch to east coast time as they came in to land.

"Wake up, everyone," she said. "We're here."

Kwame was already awake and helping her to navigate the landing, but Gi and Ma-Ti were fast asleep.

"There is the Geocruiser," said Kwame, pointing.

"Good." Linka maneuvered the aircraft expertly, her green eyes narrowed. It hovered next to the Cruiser, then slowly lowered to rest beside it.

"Nice landing," commented Gi as she yawned and stretched. "What time is it?"

"Five." Linka was already unbuckling. "Is this Wheeler's building?"

None of the Planeteers had visited Wheeler's home before.

"It must be," said Kwame. "I don't know what number he is, though – I'll give him a call."

"No, I'll contact him," said Ma-Ti quickly. "_Heart_."

He held his ring to his temple, which aided the telepathic signal.

"_Wheeler? Are you there, my friend?"_

Silence, then a response.

"_Ma-Ti? Hey, little buddy! Where are you?" _Wheeler's reply was cheerful, but Ma-Ti could feel the confused swirl of emotions beneath it.

"_I'm standing on top of your apartment building."_

"_No kidding?"_

"_We just arrived."_

"_So you all came?" _An image of Linka swam into Ma-Ti's mind.

"_We're all here. What floor is your home on?"_

"_Uh, the top floor, but there's no one home at the moment. My mom and I are at the hospital."_

"_The hospital?" _Ma-Ti's instincts had been right on the money. _"Is it your father?"_

"_Yeah …" _Wheeler sounded reluctant. _"Hey, I'll come meet you guys."_

"_No, that's okay – just tell us which hospital and we'll come to you."_

"_Um…"_

"_Is that all right, my friend?"_

"_Yeah. Yeah, it's fine. Okay." _Wheeler gave Ma-Ti quick directions to the hospital.

"_I gotta go," _he finished. _"People are starting to look at me strangely."_

"_All right. We will see you soon."_

Ma-Ti broke the connection, and opened his eyes to see three Planeteers and one monkey staring at him.

"So? Where is he?" asked Kwame.

"At the hospital," said Ma-Ti slowly.

"The hospital?" Linka repeated, her face pale.

"Wheeler is fine," he reassured her. "It is his father. He didn't say what was wrong, but he didn't sound good."

"Which hospital?" Gi broke in.

"It's not far from here. Wheeler said it would be a ten-minute walk."

"Then what are we waiting for?" said Linka. She looked white and tense. "Let us go."

XXXXXXX

As they walked, Linka looked closely at their surroundings. Tall brownstone buildings crowded in around them. Young people sat on the stairs outside their apartments, smoking or talking. A few block away, sirens wailed.

"This is not the nicest neighbourhood," she observed.

"No," Kwame agreed. "None of us came from the most glamorous of backgrounds, however."

"I can see why Wheeler puts on such a tough guy act," said Gi, neatly sidestepping something unsavoury on the pavement. "How much further, Ma-Ti?"

"There it is." Ma-Ti pointed across the road. "St Mary's."

The building was old-fashioned and forbidding, a clunky leftover from the seventies. The Planeteers crossed the road and hesitated outside the doors.

"Shall we just go in?" asked Linka. "Where is he?"

"There's a café downstairs. Apparently he and his mom are both there."

Linka felt a flutter of apprehension. She had never met Wheeler's parents, and he was fairly uncommunicative about them. _There is no need to feel nervous, _she scolded herself. _Wheeler's mother has more important things to worry about than you. Stop being so selfish, Linka. _Still, she checked her hair quickly in a glass panel as they entered.

A small gift shop, then a sign reading 'Cafeteria'. Kwame led the way, and the Planeteers filed in.

Linka scanned the tables. The café was almost full, but lacked the buzz of conversation you would usually find in an eating place. Instead, people talked quietly, their heads lowered.

"There he is!" said Ma-Ti.

A familiar tall, redheaded figure stood at the far end of the room, one hand lifted in greeting. Linka felt her heart leap oddly in her chest.

"Hey, guys," Wheeler said as they approached. "Good to see you!" His tone was bright, but there was a forced gaiety in it. He was pale, with dark smudges under his blue eyes.

Kwame clasped his friend's hand, observing him closely. "Are you all right?"

"Sure I am." Wheeler turned to give Gi a quick hug and slap Ma-Ti on the shoulder. "Hey, little buddy."

Linka waited quietly, standing a little aside from the others. She was glad to see Wheeler, but a little resentful as well. _Why didn't you talk to me? What is it that you can't tell me?_

Wheeler met her gaze over Gi's head, and Linka saw something in his eyes – an emotion all too familiar to her. Grief. She reached out to him, but he had already turned away, and was introducing his mother.

"Mom, this is Kwame … Gi … Ma-Ti … and Linka. Guys, this is my mother – Bridget Sloane. I see you left Suchi behind?" he said to Ma-Ti.

"He's in the Eco-copter." Ma-Ti smiled his sweet smile at Wheeler's mother. She was a slight woman, with long, reddish-brown hair tied back in a bun and pleasant crinkles at the corner of startlingly bright blue eyes – eyes so similar to Wheeler's that it was almost unnerving.

"Pleased to meet you all. I've heard a lot about you." She shook hands with them. Linka felt how small and cold her fingers were.

"And you're Linka?" Bridget smiled up at the Russian girl.

"_Da._ I mean, yes, I am." Linka felt gangly and awkward. Bridget looked at her and then at her son, and the sadness lifted from her face for a second to be replaced with a touch of mischief. It made her look younger – and it made her look a lot like Wheeler.

The Planeteers drew out chairs and sat down.

"How was the flight?" Wheeler asked.

"It was fine," said Kwame, choosing his words carefully. "How is your father, Wheeler?"

Wheeler was picking bits of polystyrene off his coffee cup and avoiding his friend's gaze. "Um, well …" He was clearly ill-at-ease. His mother stepped in.

"Nick has liver failure," she said gently. "He hasn't been well for some time now."

_Mother of all euphemisms, _Wheeler thought. He looked up and saw Ma-Ti watching him knowingly.

"Over the years, his liver has become very damaged. We knew that he would never really recover." Bridget sounded calm. "About a week ago, he just … couldn't get out of bed. The whites of his eyes were very yellow. And since then … well, he has deteriorated. He has been asleep for two days now."

"Asleep?" asked Gi softly.

"In a coma," said Wheeler starkly.

Linka was sitting on Wheeler's right. Under the table, she felt for his hand, and clasped it. It was cold, although his power ring still retained a little warmth, and she felt a slight tremor in his fingers as she squeezed them.

"Is there …" she began.

Wheeler shook his head. "Not much they can do now. It's not …" He stood up suddenly. "Would you guys excuse us for a minute? Mom?"

His mother laid a hand on his forearm. "Of course, Jay." She smiled past him to Linka. "We'll stay here."

"Thanks." Wheeler spoke abruptly. He grabbed Linka's hand and half-led her, half-dragged her to the door. The Planeteers watched them go. Gi and Kwame exchanged meaningful glances before turning back to Bridget.

XXXXXXX

Wheeler didn't turn around or stop walking until he and Linka were outside in the crisp, cold air – then he turned quickly and put his arms around her.

"Oh God, Lin …"

Linka held him gently, reaching up a hand to stroke the back of his head. He buried his face in her hair and they stood like that for a while.

After a few minutes of silence, she felt the paroxysm of a sob run through his body, and then he pulled away, biting his lip. His eyes were very blue.

"Linka …" he spoke quietly. "Come and sit."

He sat on a bench set up against the hospital wall, and patted the seat next to him. She sat down and took his hand, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Babe …" He stared down at his hands. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you. I guess … well, if I don't talk about it, it's not happening, right?" He gave her a watery smile and ran a hand through his hair. "Shit. Sorry. It hasn't been a very good day. How are you? Are you okay? It's really good to see you."

Linka wanted to do something, say something to help, but couldn't. She felt out of her depth, as she did in any highly-charged emotional situation. She reached out a hand and brushed a strand of hair from his face, letting her fingers linger on his forehead.

"The thing is," said Wheeler, not waiting for a response, "I've wanted him to die so often, you know? But …"

"It's okay." Linka cupped his face in her hands. "You did not make this happen, Wheeler. He did this to himself."

"I know, I know, but …" Wheeler struggled to find words. The daylight was failing now, and lights were coming on in the houses down the street.

"Don't talk." Linka hugged him close until she felt his tensed muscles relax slightly, then drew away.

"There will be plenty of time for talking later," she said firmly. "We should go back inside and see your father."

Wheeler took a deep, painful breath. "I don't think I can, Lin."

"You can." She took his hand gently, and smiled. "Because I will be with you. And I will stay with you for as long as you want me to. I'm not going anywhere, Yankee."


	6. Chapter 6

Gi, Kwame and Ma-Ti left for the night. Bridget had offered to put them all up in the Sloanes' tiny apartment, but the Planeteers had tactfully declined.

"I've made us all reservations in a hotel nearby," Gi had said, tapping at her laptop keys. "It's cheap and cheerful, but I think it will be nice."

"All of us?" said Wheeler, looking up quickly.

Gi met his gaze. "There's a bed there for you too, if you want it. Anyway, we'd better head off. Any suggestions for somewhere to eat?"

"Yeah." Wheeler reeled off a short list and Gi scribbled down the addresses.

"You staying for a while?"

"I think I might. I'll be in touch later."

Gi stood up, folding her laptop away, and leaned forward to give Wheeler a quick hug.

"Don't worry," she whispered in his ear. "Everything's going to be fine."

"Thanks, Gi."

Kwame and Ma-Ti said their goodbyes to Wheeler and his mother, then turned to look enquiringly at Linka. She was sitting beside the young American at the Formica café table.

"I'm staying too," she said. "I'll call you later, Kwame."

Kwame nodded. Linka thought she saw an approving expression in his eyes but, as usual, the young Kenyan kept his thoughts to himself.

XXXXXXX

After the Planeteers had departed, Bridget stood up and brushed a couple of crumbs off her skirt.

"Well," she said with forced cheerfulness, "I'm going back up to the room."

"We'll meet you up there, Mom," said Wheeler. He watched her small figure walk away, then turned to Linka.

"Hi," he said.

"Hello," she replied, smiling.

"Thanks for staying."

"I said I would."

"Hey, Linka … there's something I should tell you."

"What?" The expression in her eyes was warm.

"It's …" Wheeler hesitated. He was going to tell her about the whole business with Monica – but was it really worth it? They had more important things to think about, and nothing had happened. Nothing significant, anyway. It was hardly worth mentioning.

"You know what? It doesn't matter." He reached up and brushed a strand of blonde hair out of her eyes, enjoying the tell-tale flush that rose to her cheeks. "I don't really want to go upstairs straight away. Apparently his condition is 'serious but stable' at the moment."

"Serious but stable?" Linka repeated. "That sounds like an oxymoron."

"What did you call me?" said Wheeler in mock indignation. Linka looked confused, and he laughed. "Sorry, babe. Dumb joke."

"The language barrier," she said, shaking her head. "Well, if you are sure you don't want to stay with him …"

"Not right now. In fact, you know what I would like more than anything?"

Linka looked into Wheeler's blue eyes and smiled. "What?"

"I'd like to go do something cheesy and touristy with you. You know, go to the top of the Empire State Building, take a carriage ride …"

"Won't it be a little cold?"

"Okay, scratch that. How about dinner in an Italian restaurant? Candles on the table, red plaid tablecloths, heavily-accented waiters …"

"Spaghetti and meatballs."

"Cheap red wine."

"Mafia connections."

"Exactly. You up for it, babe?"

"_Da_," Linka nodded. "On one condition."

"What's that?"

"We go upstairs, quickly check on your father and tell your mother where we are going."

"You drive a hard bargain." Wheeler ran his hand through his hair, and sighed. "Okay. Let's go."

XXXXXXX

Linka hovered outside the hospital room uncertainly.

"Should I wait here?"

"You kidding? No way am I letting you stay out here. You're coming in with me, babe." Wheeler grabbed Linka by the shoulders and steered her in. Bridget looked up and smiled as they entered.

"Jacob, Linka." She turned her attention back to the still form on the bed.

"Any developments, Mom?"

"No."

Linka examined Wheeler's father. He was a tall, well-built man, with reddish-brown hair spilling across a craggy forehead. There were deep lines around his eyes and mouth. She sat awkwardly on the edge of a chair.

"Mom, Linka and I were going to go out for a bite," Wheeler was saying, one hand resting on his mother's shoulder. "You need anything?"

"No, sweetheart, I'll be fine. They've offered me a bed here for the night, so I may stay over. Do you have a key for the apartment?"

Wheeler nodded. "Okay. Well … we'll see you later, then."

"Keep in touch. And don't stay out all night again."

Linka looked up sharply. Wheeler cast a worried glance at her. "Sure, Mom. Come on, babe, let's go."

XXXXXXX

They walked down the corridor. Linka glanced at Wheeler's profile. He seemed to be avoiding her gaze.

"Out all night?" she said, keeping her tone light.

"Yeah …" Wheeler's voice trailed off. "I was pretty messed up last night. Didn't feel like going home."

"So where did you go?"

"Out to a bar. Then crashed at a friend's place."

"Oh." Linka decided to leave it there for the moment. Wheeler had enough to worry about. "So where's this restaurant, then?"

XXXXXXX

The walk to the restaurant felt awkward for reasons Wheeler couldn't quite pin down. Not that they felt uncomfortable with each other – at least, not exactly. But there was something in the air that made him talk too much to hide his nervousness, and made Linka flush whenever he accidentally brushed against her.

_I've known this girl for years. What's wrong with me? _he thought. Despite the attraction he had always felt for Linka, he also usually felt very comfortable with her. So what was the difference now?

Linka was thinking along the same lines – but she had a clearer idea of why they felt suddenly shy and nervous. Coming to New York to see Wheeler was out of character for her in a lot of ways – it meant admitting that there was something more between them than friendship. In fact, this was the closest they had ever got to going on a real date – hanging out on Hope Island really didn't count.

Linka flushed slightly with embarrassment. A real date? What was she, twelve? _Bozhe moy, Linka, _she admonished herself. _Grow up._

"So," she said, determinedly keeping her voice brisk, "how much further is this place?"

Wheeler looked at her in surprise. Her tone sounded a little stern. "Um, just one more block. That okay?"

"Fine."

Wheeler tucked his hands in his pockets and moved a little further away from her. He felt like he may have done something wrong. Had he upset her? _Wouldn't be the first time I messed things up_, he thought bitterly.

"Here we are." He stopped outside the restaurant. It was almost dark now, and the candles on the tables spilled golden light onto the sidewalk. The smell of basil and garlic floated to meet them. The place looked cosy and (Linka swallowed nervously) romantic.

"Maybe we should go somewhere else," she said, her voice sounding a little high-pitched.

"What? Why?" Wheeler's eyes widened.

"No reason." Linka shook her head. _Get a grasp, Linka! Or was it 'get a grip'? Whatever. _"I am sorry, Wheeler. This will be fine."

Wheeler held the door open for her. She waited for him to step through, and he waited for her. After a minute's pause they stepped forward at the same time, and almost had a Marx brothers moment in the doorway.

"Ouch! Sorry, babe," said Wheeler, rubbing his head where he had caught it on the door frame. "You okay?"

"I am fine."

"Good. So … shall we …?"

"Yes, of course."

They headed inside. _Man, this is super-awkward, _Wheeler thought. He asked the hostess for a table and she led them to a table for two by the window.

"This is our best table," she said proudly, handing them menus with a flourish. "You are lucky you came so early."

"Yeah, real lucky," said Wheeler weakly. He sat down opposite Linka, who was trying to smooth down her hair.

"You look great, babe."

"Really?" Linka laughed nervously. She felt off-balance. Usually she would have spent hours getting ready for a romantic dinner. Today she hadn't even glanced in a mirror since they got off the Eco-copter.

"Yeah. You always look good. Like pizza."

"Pizza?" Linka looked at Wheeler, her green eyes wide.

"Yeah, you know. Pizza always looks good, even if you're not hungry …" he trailed off, then leaned back in his chair and exhaled loudly. "Man, is this really awkward or is it just me? I mean, pizza? Where did that come from? I'm trying way too hard."

"I know!" Linka was relieved at Wheeler's honesty. "It does feel strange."

Wheeler contemplated her from his end of the table. "And why is that? I mean, we've known each other for ages, we've definitely seen each other at our worst …"

Linka nodded. "I've seen you in the early mornings. It doesn't get much worse than that."

"True," Wheeler laughed. "So … what is it? I feel really nervous tonight."

"I think maybe it is because …" Linka hesitated. "Well, we've never gone out to dinner before, just us."

"But it's a really casual place!"

"I know, I know, but still … it is, how you say …" she was loath to elaborate. Wheeler noticed this and smiled evilly.

"It's because this is a date, right? Like a real, boy-girl, pick-you-up-at-eight kind of thing. Like we're actually going out with the intention to spend time together. Romantically," he added, just to make things clear.

"_Da_." Linka crossed her arms defensively.

"Right," said Wheeler, suddenly feeling better. "I see." He tipped his chair back so it was resting on two legs. "So, babe – you still keen to do this? I mean, we can go somewhere a little less … atmospheric."

Linka looked across at him. Although there were still the glimmerings of a mocking smile playing about his lips, his blue eyes were full of concern.

"I don't want you to be uncomfortable," he elaborated. "If you want a little more build-up to this whole date thing, just let me know."

Linka twirled her empty wine glass by the stem and smiled, a little shyly. "_Nyet._ I think this will be all right."

"Oh. Well … good." Wheeler straightened his chair up, just as the waitress arrived. "Perfect timing. So, babe, how about that jug of red wine?"

"Sounds good, Yankee."


	7. Chapter 7

Linka felt herself slowly relaxing during dinner. They avoided any controversial topics and Wheeler consciously restrained himself from flirting.

"How's the pasta?" he asked, nodding at her plate of penne.

"Good." Linka lifted a forkful to her mouth, then smiled. Wheeler smiled back. Neither said anything.

Linka started to giggle. "Sorry," she said, covering her mouth.

"And we were doing so well." Wheeler shook his head.

"We still are." Linka sipped her wine. "We are doing very well."

"Seriously?"

"_Da_. This place is lovely."

"You are lovely."

"Are you allowed to say things like that?"

"What? Did we have an agreement not to?"

"It was unspoken, but _da_, I think we did."

"Oh, right. The whole minimising awkwardness thing." Wheeler leaned back in his chair. "Is it weird to be enjoying myself so much when my father's in hospital?"

Linka looked at him sympathetically. "_Nyet. _But I know what you mean. When my father died …" She stopped. "Oh Wheeler, I am so sorry – I didn't mean that …"

"Hey, it's okay." He laid a hand on hers. "I know what you mean. Carry on."

Linka could feel the warmth of his hand. "Well … after my father died, I felt guilty about enjoying anything. I felt like I was a selfish person. But then I realised that he would want me to be happy."

"Yeah? Your father sounds nicer than my father. I'm pretty sure mine would be okay with a bit of guilt and misery."

"Wheeler!" Linka took his hand and turned it over to see his power ring. She swivelled it slightly so it was centred on his index finger.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Wheeler was watching her play with his ring. "So …"

"So."

"Do you want dessert? Coffee?"

"Not really." Linka released Wheeler's hand, smiling shyly.

"I might go back to the apartment, then. Don't want my Mom to worry again."

"Oh." Linka moved back slightly. "Well, I suppose I should go to the hotel. I'll call Gi."

"Okay."

Linka pulled out her phone and started to dial. Wheeler reached across and took it.

"Hey!"

"Yeah, so I was thinking …" he cancelled the call. "Would you like to come back, see the apartment? I can make you some really terrible instant coffee."

"How terrible?" Linka's voice was still indignant, but she was smiling.

"Really, really bad. I mean, add the fact that I personally always make awful coffee to the fact that our instant coffee tastes like tarmac and you've got yourself a pretty shocking hot beverage."

"Sounds enticing."

"Also you get to see my room. It'll give you ammunition for years to come."

"Also enticing."

"So what do you say? I'm holding your phone to ransom."

"I say …" Linka hesitated. She looked across at the young American. "All right. But we mustn't stay up too late."

"Agreed."

XXXXXXX

Wheeler fumbled for his apartment key, and dropped it.

"Damn."

He felt flustered. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to invite Linka back. The apartment was hardly an advertisement for stylish New York living. Hardly a good way to impress a date.

"Did you grow up here?" Linka asked from behind him. Wheeler turned the key.

"Yeah. Except for a brief period when I lived with friends … before I became a Planeteer."

He pushed the door open. "So. Here it is."

Linka looked around. She saw a small living room and kitchen, with wooden furniture and threadbare orange couches. A small vase of wilting flowers on the table was a testament to Bridget's optimism.

"Yeah, it's a little seventies." Wheeler was rummaging in one of the kitchen cupboards.

Linka spotted a few framed photographs on the sideboard and wandered towards them. There was Bridget, and there was Wheeler's father – much younger, and laughing. A toddler clung to their hands, mouth open wide in a gappy smile. A shock of red hair confirmed the boy's identity.

"Very cute."

Wheeler turned round to see what she was looking at, and laughed. "I think your next line is, 'what happened'?"

Linka smiled and turned back to the photographs, tracing her finger lightly along the frames. There was a black and white wedding photograph, then a more recent picture of Wheeler.

"Who took this?"

"What? Oh. Gi, I think. My Mom wanted a photo."

Linka examined it. She could see it was taken on Hope Island. Wheeler was in full sunlight, smiling into the camera. His teeth looked very white, his eyes very blue. She ran a finger along the outline of his chest for a moment – then something else caught her eye. An unframed postcard-sized photograph, propped up behind one of the frames. It showed Wheeler with his arm around a girl with very pale blonde hair and dark eyes. It was snowing, and behind them she could make out an ice-rink teeming with skaters.

"Who's this?" she asked, keeping her voice casual.

Wheeler was pouring the coffee. "Who?"

"This girl."

He came over carrying two mismatched mugs. "Here you go. Hey – that's a really old photo. I didn't know Mom still had that out." He took it from her. "That's Trish."

"Trish."

"Old girlfriend." He put the photo face-down on the table.

"How old?"

"You mean how old was she, or how long ago were we together?" There was a mischievous gleam in Wheeler's eyes.

"You know what I mean, Yankee!"

"We split up just before I joined the Planeteers."

"How long were you together?"

"Um, about three years, I guess? Two and a half. But we've known each other for ages."

"Do you still keep in touch?" Linka took a sip of her coffee. Wheeler was right – it was terrible.

"From time to time. We don't have that much in common anymore." Wheeler patted the seat beside him. "It's not important, babe. It was a long time ago."

"I didn't say it was important!" Linka crossed her arms defensively.

"Oh man." Wheeler ran a hand through his hair. "Can we start over?"

"I am sorry, Wheeler." Linka sat down on the edge of the couch, and smiled a little awkwardly. "You were right. This coffee is truly awful."

"It is, isn't it? Let's abandon it. I'll show you my room." He stood up. "No hidden meaning, I promise."

"I know." Linka stood and followed him.

"Ta-dah!" Wheeler pushed open the door. Linka laughed involuntarily – it was such a teenage boy's room. Star Wars bed-linen, posters on the walls, clothes hanging half out of drawers.

"It was a lot tidier before I arrived." Wheeler sat down on the bed, which creaked under his weight.

"I can imagine. I have seen your room on Hope Island."

"Yeah. Chaos and devastation – my work here is done."

Linka sat beside him on the bed, playing with her ring. She kept her eyes cast downwards.

"So. I had better …"

Before she could finish, Wheeler quickly bent his head and kissed her full on the lips. His mouth was warm and soft, but the kiss was swift and he pulled away before she could return it.

"Sorry," he said when she looked up. "I couldn't help it." He was smiling, but his eyes were serious.

Linka raised a hand to her lips. "I …" She felt that all-too-familiar mix of excitement and panic.

"I know. Man, I'm an idiot. Look, just forget I did that, and we'll …"

Linka traced the outline of Darth Vader on the pillow. "No, Wheeler, it is okay." She paused. Why was she so scared? After all, wasn't this what they had been moving towards for months now? No, scratch that – years. And it wasn't like she had never been involved with a man before. What frightened her so much about this situation?

And then she realised.

Almost no one knew her as well as Wheeler. They had witnessed each other's best and worst over the years – laughed together, fought together, occasionally even cried together. He had seen her with no makeup on. She had seen him cooking pancakes wearing nothing but a towel. He had stood by her during her addiction to Bliss and her grandmother's illness. She had listened to him talk about his father's alcoholism and his own fears that he would end up the same way. They had worked and lived side-by-side for years. If their relationship deepened, there would be nowhere for Linka to hide – he would see through all her defences. He knew her too well for pretence. He would demand honesty.

Was that why she had resisted all these years? And was her fear of being vulnerable going to keep him at arms' length again?

She came to a decision.

Wheeler was worried. The young Russian had been silent for a few minutes now. He watched the delicate line of her profile – her green eyes were narrowed and her smooth brow was creased by a frown.

"Linka, I didn't mean to push you. I know I've been a real insensitive jerk about it in the past."

"Well, that is true." She laughed a little.

"So … I should take you back to the hotel?"

Linka leaned forwards and held Wheeler's lapels. "Not just yet, I think," she said, and pulled his head down to meet hers in a long kiss.

"Wow," he said, taking a breath. His chest was rising and falling quickly. "Do you have any idea how many teenage fantasies you're fulfilling in this room?"

"Wheeler?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

And for quite a while afterwards there was no more opportunity for talking.


	8. Chapter 8

Wheeler twined a strand of golden hair around his finger, then released it. Linka's head was resting on his bare chest, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders. She turned her head slightly and smiled up at him. Her face looked young and suddenly vulnerable, and Wheeler felt his heart swell with tenderness.

"Hello." He stroked the side of her face.

"Hi."

"You okay?"

"_Da._ Was it …" she hesitated.

"Was it …?" Wheeler prompted her.

"Was it all right? I mean, was I …"

Wheeler propped himself up on one elbow. "God, of course. It was fantastic. You were fantastic. And you? Was it …"

"_Da_." She smiled.

"Well, of all the ways I thought the day would end …" Wheeler leaned back into the pillows. "This was fairly low on the list of probabilities."

Linka snuggled her head down and sighed. "Mmm. For me, also."

They were silent for a while. Wheeler kissed the top of Linka's head. "So – would you like to stay here tonight?"

Linka frowned slightly. "I am not sure."

"Oh. Okay."

"Gi will worry."

"We can call her."

"But it's quite late." Linka brought her wrist closer to her face so she could read her watch. "It's almost eleven. They were all pretty tired from the flight – they will probably be asleep."

"Oh. Right, well, sure." Wheeler sat up, running his hand through his hair and tousling it further. "I can take you over there. We should probably get dressed first, though."

"That's a good idea." Linka smiled, but Wheeler wasn't looking at her. "Are you all right, Yankee?"

"Yeah." Wheeler sat on the edge of the bed and started to rummage for his jeans. "Besides, I should maybe shoot to the hospital. See if I can get Mom anything."

Linka sat up, crossing her arms over her chest and shivering slightly. The room was chilly.

"Here." Wheeler tossed her his sweater. "Wear this."

"Thank you."

Wheeler zipped up his jeans and pulled a shirt over his head. "There you go. Fully clothed."

Linka drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. The young American sat beside her on the bed and gave her a quick hug. "Hey – so does this mean I'm allowed to kiss you whenever I want?"

"Well, not quite whenever, Yankee!" Linka pushed him away jokingly.

"How about now, then?"

"I think now would be acceptable, yes."

Wheeler bent his head and kissed her deeply, one hand cupping her face. He drew away, smiling.

"You know," he said, "I think it's time to break the pattern."

"What pattern?"

"Something happens between us, we don't talk about it and then we get all kinds of crossed lines and have a big fight."

Linka thought about this for a moment. It did seem pretty accurate. "Okay."

"Given that what just happened is a fairly big something, how about I come pick you up at the hotel tomorrow morning, we have breakfast with the others and then go off someplace and talk about this?"

Linka looked up. Wheeler's expression was unusually serious. She admired his handsomeness and the firm set of his jaw.

"I think that sounds like a good plan."

"Great. So no over-analysing till then. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"Good. Now, much as I hate to have to do this, I'm going to take you home."

XXXXXXX

Gi rested the laptop on her knees. She was still awake, working on a report about the pollution levels in a certain stretch of ocean. For some reason jet lag always got her this way – it took her ages to get to sleep on the first night.

There was a soft click at the door to the hotel room. Gi put her laptop aside.

"Linka?"

The door opened quietly, and Linka stepped in.

"I thought you would be asleep."

Gi examined her friend. The Wind Planeteer's eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. She looked almost feverish. When she caught Gi's eye, she blushed and looked away, smoothing her hair down.

"I'm going to have a shower," she announced.

"Okay." Gi smiled evilly. "And then you can tell me all about your evening."

Linka blushed again, and started towards the bathroom. She closed the door firmly, but not before Gi said, "And you can tell me why you're wearing Wheeler's sweater, too."

XXXXXXX

Wheeler stepped away from the hotel lobby and into the street. He couldn't wipe the smile off his face, not even when a homeless guy swore at him.

"Here you go, buddy." Wheeler chucked him a handful of dollar bills. "And there's a soup kitchen round the corner. Opens at a quarter to five."

The homeless guy muttered something under his breath, but took the money. Wheeler continued down the street.

Who knew? These last few days had to be some of the weirdest of his entire life. And, together with the other Planeteers, he had done some pretty weird stuff.

A thought occurred to him, and he pulled out his cellphone. He dialed.

"Hello?"

"Linka?"

"No, this is Gi."

"Oh, hey little mermaid. How's things?"

"Good." Wheeler couldn't see her, but he could imagine the smug expression on her face. The tone of her next sentence confirmed it. "How's things with you?"

"Very good." Wheeler smiled. "As you probably know."

"All my years of matchmaking had to pay off sometime!"

"Yeah, your contribution occasionally helped, I guess. So what are you doing answering Linka's phone?"

"She's in the shower."

"Okay. Could I speak to her for a sec?"

"Sure. And Wheeler?"

"Yeah?"

"You know I'm really happy for you, right?"

"I know, Gi. Thanks. We'll catch up tomorrow."

"I'm looking forward to it. Okay, going to find Linka now …"

Wheeler heard a door opening, then the hiss of a shower and a shriek from Linka.

"_Bozhe moy,_ Gi, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

The American laughed. He was at his apartment building now, about to head up the stairs. He heard whispering down the line, words he couldn't quite catch, and then Linka's voice.

"Wheeler?"

God, he loved her accent. He waited until he heard the door click. "Gi gone?"

"_Da, _she is gone." Linka's voice was indignant, but he could detect warmth in it too. "What is so important that you had to interrupt my shower, Yankee?"

"Wait a second – just so I can get a really accurate mental picture, what are you wearing right now?"

"A towel."

"Nothing else?"

"_Nyet._"

"I thought so."

"And I'm cold, so tell me quickly."

"Okay." Wheeler started up the stairs. "I love you."

There was silence on the other end.

"What?"

"I said I love you. No agenda, just thought you should know."

"Only you would do this at midnight via cellphone, Yankee."

"I know. It's what makes me special."

"Well." Linka was silent for a moment. "_Ya tyebya lyublyu_."

"Does that mean what I think it means?"

"Look it up. And go to sleep!"

Wheeler chuckled. "Good night to you too."

He clicked off the phone just as he reached the top of the stairs. His feet had wings tonight.

XXXXXXX

Linka opened the bathroom door and emerged pink and glowing in a cloud of steam. Gi was still sitting cross-legged on one of the beds.

"So …?" she said.

Linka settled herself at the foot of the bed. She was wearing pyjamas and thick socks, with Wheeler's sweater pulled over her pyjama top.

"Well …" she hesitated. "What do you want to know?"

"What a question." Gi shook her head. "I haven't watched you two fight and make up for five years without earning the right to hear all the juicy details."

"Who says there are juicy details?"

"Oh, sure. You're practically floating off the bed. Of course there are details." Gi smiled. "So dish."

"Shouldn't you be tired?"

"Funnily enough, no. Come on, Linka." Gi put on her best puppydog face. She was very good at it. "Don't you want to tell me?"

Linka's reserve crumbled. "Well … okay. But don't tell anyone, yes?"

"Of course not."

The Russian Planeteer gave Gi a breakdown of the evening's events, speaking a little shyly. She reached the part where Wheeler showed her his bedroom.

"And then we …" she hesitated.

"You …?" Gi leaned forward. "Oh my god, did you really?"

Linka blushed and looked down, playing with the hem of the sweater. "Not so loud, Gi!"

"I'm sorry. Were you … you know … safe?"

"Of course!" Linka looked up.

"Good to see all those afternoons we spent talking to high school kids about choices have definitely sunk in. So … how was it?"

"It was good." Linka was embarrassed. Should she tell Gi what Wheeler had said on the phone? Maybe not just yet. She wanted to keep it to herself for a while.

"This is huge." Gi leaned back. Her short hair was tousled and her pretty face filled with excitement.

"_Da_." Linka bit her lip. She was enjoying this talk with Gi – she didn't usually open herself up to girlie gossip like this – but she also felt uncomfortable. That niggling feeling of fear was back again. "You are right, Gi. It is huge. I can't believe I made such a big decision so quickly."

"Uh-oh." Gi knew her friend well. "Don't freak out on me, Planeteer."

"I should have thought about it more." Linka was working herself up into full self-blame mode. "Wheeler always makes me do silly things."

"Hey, stop a minute. This was a silly thing?"

"No. At least, I don't think so."

"Stop right there." Gi hugged her friend. "Don't think too much about it. I know what you're like. You'll blow it up into something huge and scary in your mind and then you'll freeze Wheeler out tomorrow. And that's the worst thing you could do."

Linka's green eyes were wide. "Is that what I do?"

"Linka, I'm your best friend. Trust me on this one, please."

"Wheeler did say not to over-analyse anything …" said Linka slowly.

"Exactly. He knows you too." Gi got up. "I'm going to make us a cup of herbal tea and we'll talk about something else for a while."

"That's a good idea." Linka lay down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "I couldn't sleep just yet anyway."

"Me neither."

XXXXXXX

In the early hours of the morning, long after Gi and Linka had finally fallen asleep, Linka's phone beeped quietly and flashed. A message had arrived that she would not read till morning.

_Dad has taken turn for the worse. Am at hospital. May not make it to breakfast. Will call you. XXX._


	9. Chapter 9

Linka awoke early. She stretched and yawned luxuriously, moving so that she lay in the tiny patch of sun filtering through the hotel window. A feeling of warmth and safety enclosed her. _Why am I in such a good mood?_ she wondered.

And then remembered. Her eyes snapped wide open.

_Bozhe moy._

XXXXXXX

Kwame and Ma-Ti sat in the hotel restaurant munching on muesli and fresh fruit.

"I think we should head back today," Kwame said thoughtfully.

"Gaia said that we deserved a few days' break."

"I know, but there are things I want to do back on the island. And I think it's a good idea if at least some of us are there – just in case."

"We wouldn't be able to summon Captain Planet," Ma-Ti pointed out.

"No, but all the same." The young African took his work seriously. Ma-Ti could feel his slight frustration at this unplanned 'holiday', mixed with guilt.

"Don't worry, Kwame. Wheeler will understand that it's not because you don't care about his father."

Kwame looked up quickly. Ma-Ti's uncanny perspicacity was a little disconcerting at times. "Thank you, Ma-Ti."

"Linka will stay, I think." Ma-Ti smiled a little.

"I expected she would. I will persuade Gi to return with us, though."

"Did someone mention my name?" Gi pulled up a chair. She was more upbeat than usual this morning, and even her glossy dark hair seemed to crackle with energy.

"Just saying that we three should go back to Hope Island today." Kwame steeled himself for an argument with the strong-willed Water Planeteer.

"All right." Gi buttered a piece of toast. "We'll leave the lovebirds to it."

"Lovebirds?" Kwame raised an eyebrow.

"Mmm-hmm." Gi nodded, and took a sip of orange juice. "Very interesting developments."

"I'm certain you have been sworn to secrecy, Gi," said Kwame with a hint of reproof.

Gi sighed. "Yes."

_Can you tell me anything? _Ma-Ti asked her soundlessly.

_No, and don't be sneaky, _Gi replied with a laugh.

"Any news from Wheeler this morning?" asked Kwame.

"No." Gi shook her head.

"And where's Linka?"

"Still asleep, I think. We had a late night."

XXXXXXX

Linka appeared halfway through breakfast, looking a little pale. After exchanging greetings with the others she sat down and played with a bowl of cornflakes, but ate very few.

_Are you all right, Linka? _Ma-Ti asked silently.

_Fine. _Linka's mind snapped shut as firmly as a steel trap. Ma-Ti had always been impressed by her ability to resist his mental probing – he could not sense even the slightest emotion from her now. He withdrew quietly.

"Ma-Ti, Gi and I are going home today," Kwame said to Linka.

"And you assume that I am staying?" she snapped. Kwame looked taken aback.

"Well, I …"

"Someone should stay with Wheeler," said Gi gently.

"And why do you think it should be me?"

_Oh brother. _"Well …" Gi didn't know how to finish the sentence.

"It is up to you, of course, Linka," said Kwame. "Just let us know before we leave, that's all."

"Fine." Linka swallowed a spoonful of cornflakes.

_Someone got out of the wrong side of bed this morning, _Gi said to Ma-Ti. _I don't understand it. She was in such a good mood last night._

_I think I understand, _said Ma-Ti a little sadly. _I will try and talk to her._

"Where's Wheeler?" said Linka suddenly. "He said he would join us for breakfast."

"I haven't heard from him," Kwame shrugged.

Linka pulled out her phone. It was flashing, indicating that she had unread messages. She opened it.

"He is at the hospital," she said shortly. "His father has taken a turn for the worse." She stood and pulled on her coat. Although she was still pale, there was an air of suppressed excitement about her – whether good or bad, Ma-Ti couldn't tell. "I am going to the hospital."

"We shall see you later, then," said Kwame, but he was speaking to empty air. Linka had already left.

XXXXXXX

Linka walked down the corridor to Nick Sloane's room, her stomach knotted with tension. She spotted a familiar figure ahead – Wheeler, sitting on a chair against the wall, holding his head in his hands. Her heart constricted with an emotion she couldn't name, and she ran to him.

"Wheeler?"

He looked up, his face blank. His eyes were dry but strangely unseeing, and it took a minute for him to focus on her.

"Linka." He held out a hand to her. "Hi, babe."

Linka knelt next to him. "Is he all right? What happened?"  
"Oh." Wheeler rubbed his temples. "Yeah, well … the doctors did everything they could, but …"

"Oh, Wheeler, no!" Linka's eyes filled with tears. Her worries this morning seemed very petty. "Is he … you don't mean …"

Wheeler swallowed. "He died this morning."

The words were stark and unforgiving. Linka spoke gently. "Did he … did he say anything before …?"

"No." Wheeler leaned against the wall. "He was asleep. He hasn't said anything to me since I arrived. And now …"

"But Wheeler, when you visited him last year you said things were better between you?" Linka was speaking very fast. "I mean, at least you have that …"

"Yeah." Wheeler's jaw was set. "At least I have that." His voice was filled with bitterness, and he sounded completely unlike his usual self. Linka drew back a little.

"When I was sixteen," he said in a neutral voice, "I came home to find my Mom sobbing at the kitchen table and a casserole splashed all over the wall. This wasn't the first time it had happened, either. When my Dad got drunk he would stagger in and criticize everything about Mom and me. Nothing was good enough. If dinner wasn't up to his high standards, he would use it to decorate the walls. So, nothing new there."

Linka sat silently beside him, listening. Wheeler stared straight ahead.

"This night, I get home and find Mom. And something inside me just snapped. _He_," he spat the word, "was sitting on the couch. Just slumped there. Watching TV. While my mother, his wife, was crying fit to bust in the kitchen. There was that smell, too, the one he always had after he came home from the bar. Stale alcohol and cigarettes. Turned my stomach."

Linka reached out tentatively and took Wheeler's right hand. His fire ring was so hot that it burned, and she moved her fingers away from it.

"Anyway. I feel this awful rage … like I need to kill something, just hit it until it bleeds. So I go to my Dad and drag him out of the chair, yelling something. I can't remember what. Some garbage. And he stands there, swaying a bit, smiling at me with this real superior look. Then he says, 'Get lost, kid. This is between your Mom and me.' And I punch him in the jaw."

Linka's green eyes were wide.

"He gets this real surprised expression on his face, and I can see him falling down. My knuckles hurt like hell. I've never hit anything so hard. On his way down, he cracks his head against the coffee table. And I'm yelling stuff. 'Don't you ever touch her again!' I mean, I was still a kid, even though I thought I was this big man. But what gets me…" Wheeler paused. "What gets me is that my Mom ran straight to him. 'Are you okay honey?' and 'Jacob, what do you think you're doing?' She just keeps yelling at me like I'm the bad guy. Tells me to get out. So I do. And I don't come back for a year."

Wheeler was silent for a moment. Linka stroked his hand lightly.

"Wheeler …"

"And now he's dead. End of story." Wheeler stood up abruptly. "Let's get out of here."

"But – your mother?"

"Still in there." He jerked a thumb at the door. "Crying. Can't believe he's gone. Twenty-five years of hell and she can't believe he's gone. Funny." He gave an unamused laugh. "We'll see her later. Come on."

Linka stood up slowly, biting her lip. This was a side to Wheeler that she had not seen before.

"Wheeler," she said gently. "I think maybe it is a good idea to take things slowly. It is difficult when someone dies, especially a parent – all these emotions are flying around. No matter what your relationship with your father was like, it will be a confusing time. If you take a few minutes to think …"

"I'm done thinking," Wheeler said shortly.

"But later you might regret not staying with your mother during this time …"

"Doubt it."

Linka felt a surge of irritation. "Come on, Yankee! Be reasonable. I know it is hard, but …"

"What do you suggest I do? Sit there with my Mom and talk about how great he was?"

"No!" Linka was shouting now. "Just stop being so … pigheaded and selfish!"

"Selfish!" Wheeler flushed.

"_Da!_ Your poor mother!"

Wheeler stared at Linka for a second, then spun on his heel and walked away.

"Come back here!" she yelled after him.

"You stay," he shouted over his shoulder, "since you're so keen to be involved."

"Hey!" Linka ran after him and grabbed his sleeve. "Stop right there, Yankee! I did not ask to be involved."

"Sure you didn't."

"Fighting with me is not going to help!"

"So what should I do, Linka?" Wheeler stopped suddenly. His blue eyes were blazing with anger. "Tell me. Because you obviously have it all sorted out, Miss Perfect. Give me your expert opinion."

Linka recoiled in hurt. "Wheeler!"

He turned and walked away again.

"Where are you going?" she called after him.

"Out."

Linka gritted her teeth. "You are behaving like a child!"

He did not slacken his pace.

"Wherever you're going, call me when you get there!" she yelled. At this moment she was so angry that she almost didn't care what happened to him, but the voice of reason inside her knew differently.

As answer, Wheeler pulled his phone out of his pocket and chucked it down the corridor towards her. It skidded over the polished floor and hit the wall. Linka bent to pick it up. When she straightened, the lift doors were closing.

"Fine!" she yelled, almost in tears. How had everything gone so wrong so fast? She glanced at the closed door to Nick Sloane's hospital room. She wouldn't go in – but perhaps if she waited outside she could be of some use to Bridget? She sat down in one of the chairs outside the door, willing the angry tears away.

Wheeler's phone rang.

Was he calling from the pay phone in the lobby? Linka answered eagerly.

"Hello?"

"Hello?" A woman's voice, sounding confused. "Wheeler?"

"Uh – _nyet. _I mean, no," said Linka, frowning a little. "But this is Wheeler's phone."

"Can I talk to him?"

"He's … out … at the moment."

"Oh, okay. Well, could you take a message? You must be one of his flatmates, right?"

"Right." Linka's green eyes widened. "I can take a message."

"Great. So, this is Monica calling – Wheeler spent the night at my place a couple days ago. I just wanted to tell him that I had a really great time and I was hoping we could hook up again while he's in NY. Here's my number."

Monica reeled off a list of digits. Linka barely heard her.

"Okay. I will tell him."

"Thanks." Monica hung up. Linka sat in silence, listening to the dial tone.


	10. Chapter 10

Sorry for the delay! Also, the site seems to have deleted _The Dating Game_, as well as the reviews for _Cooling Off. _ I'll wait a little while to see if the story reappears, and if not I'll re-post. Next chapter of _Playing With Fire _is almost complete too. Exciting developments (or so I hope) are ahead in both regular fics.

XXXXXXX

Linka stared out of the Geocruiser's window.

"So …" Gi began tentatively. She had been sitting beside Linka for four hours now, and the Russian's stony silence hadn't broken yet.

Linka continued to look out of the window with apparent fascination.

"The view's good," Gi commented. The Pacific stretched out beneath them, blue and seemingly endless.

Linka said nothing.

"Are you hungry? I'm hungry. Maybe I should get one of those muesli bars out."

Still no response. Gi sighed.

"Are you going to tell me what happened? Because I am running out of small talk. We're going to have to get to the big talk eventually."

"_Nyet._"

"Right." Gi paused. "But, just so I can be clear on a few things – Wheeler is staying in New York a bit longer?"

"I suppose so."

"Did he say how long?"

"Not to me."

Silence. Linka turned her head slightly away from the window, and Gi saw that her eyes were red-rimmed.

"Okay." Gi bit her lip. "I suppose he'll get in touch with Kwame or Ma-Ti."

"It's possible."

"And … he's all right?"

"Seemed healthy."

Another silence.

"And that's the end of the conversation?"

"_Da_."

Linka turned her attention back to the sea.

XXXXXXX

Back at his apartment, Wheeler turned his cellphone over in his hand.

"And she gave this to you?"

"She said you had lent it to her." His mother's cheeks were streaked with dry trails of tears. She clutched the cup of coffee he had made her as if it held the answers to all her problems.

"Yeah." Wheeler bit his lip. "I kinda did."

"You look terrible, hon." His mother reached out and took his hand. "So pale. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I mean …"

"Of course you're not okay. I'm sorry." Bridget swallowed. "I might go to bed, sweetheart. Will you be here tonight, or are you staying with your friends?"

"They've gone back to the island, Mom."

"Are you going back yet? I suppose you probably should." Wheeler's mother looked up at him pleadingly.

"I can stay for a while, Mom. I'm not going to leave you."

"Oh." Her relief showed in her voice. "So long as it's not going to affect your work, honey. Will your boss mind?"

"My 'boss' is a little unconventional. I think she'll understand." Wheeler hesitated. "In fact … can I talk to you for a sec, Mom?"

"Sure." His mother patted the seat next to her. "What is it, Jay?"

Wheeler sat down beside her. He leaned forwards, clasping his hands between his knees and avoiding her eyes.

"I think it might be time for me to make a bit of a career change."

"A career change?" his mother repeated.

"Yeah. I mean …" He sat up, warming to his subject. "I've been a Planeteer for over five years now. I'm heading towards my mid-twenties. Maybe it's time for me to do something else … you know, go to college."

"But you love your job, Jacob."

"I know I do. Did. But …well, it's the same people every day, you know? And the workload is so crazy that you never get to see anyone else. It's been good, real good, but … I'd kinda like to see what it's like to be a normal guy."

His mother looked at him searchingly. "Jacob, I don't think today is the day to be making big decisions. Your father …" she stopped.

"I know, Mom."

"All I'm saying is that you may not be thinking clearly."

"I know, Mom. But, on the other hand … perhaps this whole thing has made me think more clearly than I have in a while."

Bridget looked at her tall son with a mixture of pride and pity. His dark red hair was rumpled, and there were deep shadows under his eyes.

"Well, I'm going to bed." She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm glad you're here. And if you want to talk …"

"I know where you are. Same goes for you."

Bridget smiled and left the room. Wheeler watched her go, then slumped back into the couch.

How had things gone so wrong? The world felt off-balance and surreal. All the things that used to be solid were melting and dissolving. He had a sudden memory of Linka's blonde hair falling across her bare shoulders, her feet tangled in his Star Wars sheets.

After a few minutes he flipped open his phone and dialled a number.

"Hello? Hi. It's me. Can I come over tonight?"

XXXXXXX

When the Planeteers arrived back on Hope Island, they slipped back into their routine quickly. After a meeting with Gaia, Kwame suggested they should do a couple of hours' training. Linka went through the motions as if in a trance.

"I wish she would talk to us," Gi whispered to Ma-Ti. "These last few days have been very confusing. Are you getting anything from her?"

Ma-Ti watched the young Russian tackling the climbing wall. "Linka is very good at keeping me out."

"She's good at keeping everyone out."

"I've also tried contacting Wheeler …"

"And?"

"Nothing."

Gi sighed. "So we're pretty much back to where we started."

"I wonder what happened?"

"Well …" Gi hesitated.

"What?" Ma-Ti looked at her searchingly. It was difficult not to open up to him.

"Linka told me this in confidence …" Gi began.

"And you should respect that."

"Ma-Ti!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. If you want to tell me, I will listen. Go on."

"Well, you know that night Linka and Wheeler went to dinner? They … you know."

"They what?"

"You know."

"I don't know."

"You do, Ma-Ti. Take a moment."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh."

"But that's huge!" Ma-Ti's brown eyes were wide. "That is a major step! Did they think about the impact it will have on the group? Was it something they talked about?"

"You sound like Linka."

Ma-Ti exhaled. "I'm just saying – it does complicate things."

"Yes. It definitely does. And obviously something happened between then and now, because she's upset and she won't talk to me about it."

"And Wheeler hasn't talked to us either …"

"No." Gi ran a hand through her hair. "I love them both, they're two of my closest friends, but sometimes I just want to kill them. I mean, I know this situation isn't easy on them either, but it makes it really hard for us all here on the island if there's an atmosphere."

Ma-Ti shrugged. "It has happened before."

"But this time it feels different, you know? It feels … permanent."

Ma-Ti looked at Gi, his brown eyes giving nothing away. "I have some insight into what Wheeler and Linka feel about one another, Gi," he began. "And I think they will work things out. In the meantime, I feel that we should give them the space they need."

"Ma-Ti, could you be any more mysterious?"  
"Trust me."

"You know I do." Gi sighed, and looked across to where Linka was stretching in preparation for a run.

XXXXXXX

"Wheeler?"

"Kwame, hi."

"Good to hear from you, my friend. Is everything all right?"

"Yeah. I mean … well, no."

"Of course. It will take some time to sink in. Do not rush yourself."

"Uh, sure. I won't. Look, Kwame …"

"When do you think you will be able to get back? Not that I want to hurry you at all, but we do need you here. We can manage for a while longer, but you are a crucial part of the team."

"Yeah …"

"And I think that the sooner you get here and straighten things out with Linka, the better."

"Straighten things out?"

"It is obvious that something is wrong between you two."

"Is she …"

"She has been very quiet about everything. As I said, I am sure it will resolve itself. It always does."

"You said that?"

"To Gaia, yes."

"Gaia?"

"We had a meeting with her as soon as we got back. She said that you must stay in New York for as long as you need to. She sends her sympathy."

"Oh. Well, say thank you for me."

"I will. And I am sorry … I am trying not to rush you, but I realize that is what I am doing."

"Kwame, it's fine."

"I am not very good at these conversations. You know that my thoughts are with you."

"I do. And thanks."

"I may be your leader, but I am also your friend."

"I know."

"And you are mine. My best friend."

"Wow … thanks, man."

"So … I will see you soon. Or not that soon. Whatever you decide."

"Kwame …"

"Yes?"

"There's something I need to talk to you about."

XXXXXXX

"Leaving the Planeteers?" Gi was aghast. "But … he didn't even talk to us about it!"

"I know." Kwame was pacing up and down the crystal chamber.

"What did you say?"

"I didn't know what to say. I asked him if he was sure and he said he thought so."

"He thought so? Thought so? Didn't know so?"

"We have all thought about leaving in the past," said Kwame, half to himself. "Even I almost handed my resignation in once. It may be that he changes his mind once he has had time to think about it."

"Wheeler does tend to speak before thinking …" said Gi.

"It is a difficult time for him. He must be confused," said Ma-Ti. "We should give him some time to think."

"What do you think, Linka?" asked Gi, turning to her friend. "Linka?"

The young Russian was looking very pale. "I think that perhaps it is for the best," she said shortly, before turning on her heel and leaving the room.

XXXXXXX

Wheeler climbed the stairs to her apartment. He had left a note for his mother, just in case she awoke and wondered where he was, but he wasn't planning to spend all night out. Just a few hours. He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts. And where else could he go? A bar was a seriously bad idea, in the state he was in.

_You are behaving like a child!_

_Stop being so pigheaded and selfish!_

He shook his head to clear it of the angry voice that still echoed in his mind.

Linka.

No, don't think about it.

Dad …

Don't think about it!

He stopped, clutching the handrail. Almost there. She lived on the fourth floor. This wasn't the first time he had come running to her when something went wrong at home.

_The time his Dad had been picked up by the police …_

"_Don't look at me like that, boy. You're no better than me. Don't think you're better than me."_

_Wheeler had been seventeen, and ashamed. The policewoman at the desk had looked at him pityingly. _

"_That lush's kid." Yes, he had heard the whispers._

_He had taken his father home without a word._

So many things it wasn't safe to think about.

He had reached the door. He knocked.

"It's me!"

He heard the sound of a bolt being drawn back. The door creaked open. A girl stood in the doorway – pale hair held in a messy bun by a paintbrush, dark brown eyes filled with concern, that seductive tilt of the hips that he remembered so well.

"Wheeler!"

She kissed him on the cheek, then hugged him. He inhaled her familiar, spicy scent.

"Trish."

"It's good to see you!"

"You too."

"Come in."

She held the door open, and after a minute's hesitation he walked through.


	11. Chapter 11

"_I love you."_

"_What?"_

"_I said I love you. No agenda, just thought you should know."_

"_Only you would do this at midnight via cellphone, Yankee."_

Wheeler awoke with Linka's soft laugh in his mind. He lay on the sofa, staring at the ceiling, replaying the rest of the conversation.

"Ya tyebya lyublyu."

"_Does that mean what I think it means?"_

"_Look it up. And go to sleep!"_

He didn't need to look it up. He knew exactly what it meant, having learned it by heart some time ago in the hope that one day he would say it. To her.

He heard the rattle of dishes and the sound of a drawer opening. Trish must be up. He stretched and yawned, feeling a lead weight settle under his heart again. Another day.

"Coffee?" Trish appeared with a steaming mug. He took it gratefully. "Thanks."

He sat up to sip it before realizing that he was bare-chested. He must have pulled his shirt off sometime in the night.

"Um, could you pass me …?" He indicated his shirt, which was screwed up in a ball under a chair.

"Sure." Trish threw it towards him without meeting his eyes. He pulled it over his head.

"I'm glad I called Mom last night, or she'd be frantic this morning."

"Yeah." Trish sat cross-legged on the floor. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay. Thanks for letting me crash here."

"No problem." Her smile was a little strained. Wheeler winced inwardly. It hadn't really been fair to come back here. He had known the last time he came home that Trish still had feelings for him – and turning up in the middle of the night probably sent the wrong message.

He looked at the smooth curve of her shoulders, her dark eyes the colour of black coffee. She looked at home here. Her apartment was full of paintings (both finished and in progress), beaded and sequined cushions, brightly-coloured rugs. Pots of herbs were lined up neatly on the windowsill. It would be so easy in so many ways to simply fall back into her arms. And also, in some ways, so difficult.

Wheeler put down his coffee. "Can I talk to you about something?"

"Your dad?"

"Kind of."

Trish sighed and leaned back. "Don't tell me – this is about that blonde chick again, right?"

"Huh?" Wheeler flushed and sat up a little straighter. "What blonde chick?"

"God. The one you so carefully tried to avoid talking about last time you were here." Trish stretched out her long legs and sighed.

"Oh." Wheeler paused. He thought back to the last time he had visited his parents in New York. Trish had fallen in with a bad crowd and was openly hostile to him. She had fallen under the influence of Verminous Skumm, even taking drugs. It had reminded him so much of Linka's addiction to Bliss … and, hey, he'd been with the girl for three years. The feelings never completely went away. So, when he'd ended up kissing her …

"Look, Trish," he began.

She stood up. "That's cool, Wheeler. I understand. I just … don't want to hear about it. But if you want to talk about your dad …"

Wheeler ran a hand through his hair. "Not really. I think it's a story that needs to wait for the right time."

"And the right person?" Trish looked at him, one hand on her hip.

"Maybe." Wheeler got up. "I'm making a habit of waking up on girls' sofas."

"I bet Linka loves that."

"You remember her name?"

Trish shrugged. "Maybe. Anyway, I gotta get to work. I'm teaching an art class at the shelter."

After a moment's hesitation Wheeler pulled her to him in a quick hug. "Thanks for letting me stay. I'd better go too."

"Yeah, no problem." Trish smiled, then stepped back. "Wheeler?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time … don't call me, okay?"

Wheeler bit his lip. "Okay."

"Here," she chucked him a key. "Lock up when you go."

"Yeah, of course. And … thanks again, Trish."

"Like I said, no problem." She pulled on a long coat and belted it around her waist. "Bye."

Her heels clicked on the floorboards as she left.

"Don't be a stranger," she called back to him, as she had the last time they met.

"I won't." Wheeler swirled the last few drops of coffee around in his mug, then downed them. This morning routine was becoming way too familiar. What was he doing?

His phone rang, and he answered it immediately.

"Linka?"

"Huh?"

"Um, this is Wheeler. Who is this?"

"Wheeler, it's Monica."

_Monica. _Wheeler blinked. "Oh, yeah. Hi."

"Hi." Her voice sounded dampened by his lack of enthusiasm.

"Sorry." Wheeler shook his head. "I just woke up, I'm a little out of it. So, uh … what can I do for you?"

"Well, nothing." Now she sounded almost offended. "Did you get my message?"

"What message?" Wheeler held the phone away for a moment, checking for the message icon. "I don't have any."

"I left a message with your flatmate."

"My flatmate?"

"Yeah. Girl with an accent. I told her to tell you that I had a great time the other night, and let you know that I'd like to hook up again while you're in town."

Wheeler's eyes were wide. "You're kidding."

"What?"

"Look, Monica, thanks for letting me stay at your place the other night, but please don't call me again."

He cut her off.

"Shit."

XXXXXXX

Linka stepped out of the shower, towelling her hair dry. There was just time to get dressed before they headed off to Fiji for an oil clean-up operation – hard, dirty work. Just the thing she needed to take her mind off New York.

Her phone rang. Sighing, she answered it.

"Hello?"

"Linka? It's me." Wheeler's voice was frantic. "Please don't hang up."

Linka paused, her finger hovering above the call end button. "This is not a good time, Yankee."

"Linka, please, just listen. I got a call from Monica …"

"I am going now."

"Linka!"

"What? Why do you think I will be interested in your little _neryakha?"_

"What?"

"Wheeler, if you don't mind, I am on my way to do some Planeteer work. I know that you are no longer interested in what we are doing, but …"

"That's not true! Look, I was mixed-up when I talked to Kwame …"

"_Da. _And we all have to sit back and put up with your stupidity and selfishness until you decide to stop being 'mixed-up.'"

"Linka, I …"

"There is no need to explain, Wheeler. I completely understand."

"Babe, I …"

"_What did you call me?"_

"Whoa." Wheeler was silent for a minute. "But I just want to say that I know you spoke to Monica …"

"Was that her name?" Linka's voice was haughty. "I forget."

"Linka, nothing happened. She's just someone I met at a bar …"

"Oh, that makes it much better."

"No, I mean, all I did was fall asleep on her couch. Honestly. Please believe me, babe."

Linka was silent.

"Look, I'm going to come back to Hope Island …"

"Why? To pick up your things?"

"No! Linka, I spoke too soon the other day …"

"How out of character."

"Oh for Christ's sake."

Linka's eyes welled up. "I am going to hang up now, Wheeler."

"Don't do that, babe."

There was a short silence.

"Where are you going?" Wheeler asked finally.

"Fiji."

"I'll meet you there."

"What?"

"I said I'll meet you there."

"_Bozhe moy."_

"I'm not far from the airport. I'll get the first flight out. I'll see you guys there. I assume you haven't replaced me yet?"

Linka sniffed. "No. Kwame knew you would change your mind."

"Well, then."

"What about your mother?"

"I'll explain. She'll understand. And my aunt is coming to stay with her. Please, Linka."

"Well, it is your decision."

"Yes it is. And I want to see you. I want to apologise in person."

"Apologise?"

"Yeah."

Linka sniffed. "Well … fine."

"It'll take me a few minutes to get across town … I'll have to shoot back to the apartment and grab some stuff …"

"You are not at home?"

"No, I'm at Trish's."

Silence.

"Oh. Shit. Linka …"

But she was gone.

XXXXXXX

_What am I doing here?_

The thought came again, unbidden.

_I don't belong here anymore. I am not this guy._

He looked out at the grey streets, and for the first time since his father's death, felt a pang of genuine grief.


	12. Chapter 12

Gi lifted a hand to her forehead and wiped the sweat away, leaving a broad streak of oil.

"Here, let me."

Kwame reached across with a rag and wiped her face clean, his brow furrowed with concentration.

"Thanks." Gi smiled at him. "We are making progress."

"Yes." Kwame rinsed out his cloths. "Sometimes it is good to do hard, physical work. We can become a little spoilt – with our powers, and all our equipment. It is good for us to do something less glamorous once in a while."

"I suppose so." Gi sighed and crouched down next to her friend. "Where are Ma-Ti and Linka?"

"Ma-Ti is over there calming the surviving animals. Linka …" Kwame paused. "Actually, I am not sure where Linka is."

"Great. Two missing Planeteers." Gi ran a hand through her hair.

"But Wheeler is coming back."

"I am glad. We thought he would. Did Linka tell you anything else?"

"No."

Gi sighed. "I hope Linka and Wheeler manage to resolve all this."

Kwame shaded his eyes from the sun and looked out at the ocean. "I feel as if something conclusive is going to happen soon. Whether good or bad – I cannot tell."

"Good," said Gi decisively. "It had better be good. I haven't put up with them fighting and making up all these years just to have them to fall out at the end of it."

"Here's hoping." Kwame helped Gi to her feet. "Come on. Back to work."

"A Planeteer's job is never done."

XXXXXXX

Linka gazed out to sea. She was sitting on a boulder, just out of reach of the waves. Her knees were drawn up close to her chest, and she wrapped her arms around them defensively.

Typical. Just typical.

Of course the next step in their relationship would be sudden and intense. Of course they would have a big misunderstanding afterwards. Of course everything would become a big mess. Of course, of course, of course.

Why did he always destroy her most carefully-laid plans? She could never keep her cool around him. She could never predict what he was going to do next. And, worst of all, she could not control the situation, or how she felt.

He had always been a flirt – and not just with her. But she had thought …

_Bozhe moy, _Linka.

She uncrossed her arms and exhaled loudly. Enough, now. Back to work. And she would stop watching the clock and calculating the flight path of a certain 747 on its way to the islands.

Or, at least, she would pretend to stop watching it.

XXXXXXX

"_Where's my beer?"_

"_I tried, Dad. You may have noticed that I'm ten years old. I can't exactly pass for twenty-one." The voice was sarcastic._

_A thump as the older man's fist hit the table. "Shut up! I told you – they know me there. They'd give it to you. You didn't go."_

"_I …" Wheeler halted for a moment, then stood up straight and spoke with bravado. "I did. And they wouldn't give it to me."_

"_Where's my money?"_

_Silence._

"_I said, where's my money?"_

_Wheeler swallowed nervously, but stood his ground._

"_You …" something indecipherable. Nick rose from his chair and Wheeler shrank back._

"_You spent it at the arcade, didn't you?"_

"_Yeah. So?" Wheeler tried to keep his voice steady. He backed away towards the door as his father advanced. Nick made a sudden lunge and grabbed his son by the collar, lifting him slightly off his feet._

"_You're useless, you hear? A waste of space. And a thief." The last words were hissed, and the overpowering stench of alcohol filled Wheeler's face. "Get out. I don't want to look at you."_

_He dropped Wheeler and turned away. _

"_Get out, I said." His voice was weary._

_Wheeler wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. It came away wet, and salty. He fished in his jeans pocket and pulled out a handful of bills._

"_Here's your stupid money!" he yelled, and turned tail. He ran until he could no longer hear his father's voice._

_Who was he kidding? He could keep on hiding his father's booze, or pouring it down the sink. He could keep trying to take his money away so he didn't spend it on beer, or watering down the vodka. But what did it achieve? Zilch, that's what._

There had to be something else. Something else he could remember …

Wheeler leaned his cheek against the cool glass of the airplane window.

"_I've done everything I can to make you proud of me." His own voice, shamefully tear-choked and shaky. His father, impassive._

"_Are you crying?" The old man's voice was scornful._

Nope, that one was better left alone. But …

"_You came."_

_His father standing in the garden, in front of Trish's mural, looking suddenly very old. Wheeler and Trish had turned a derelict lot filled with trash into a memorial to their dead friend, Frankie. Trish had invited Nick Sloane along without telling Wheeler. Typical Trish. But his father actually turning up? Now that was something._

"_I bet you think you did something pretty special," his father had said._

_Wheeler had flinched inwardly, readying himself to respond with something cocky and (hopefully) clever._

"_Well – I sure think you did." _

_And an embrace. First time ever – that he could remember. Or was that true? Looking back, there were certainly hazy memories of being up on his Dad's shoulders when he was very small._

_So – those faint memories. And this more recent one. That was all he had._

_Perhaps it was enough._

Wheeler sighed, and turned his head. A pretty stewardess smiled at him.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

"Yeah … got anything non-alcoholic?"

"Coke? Or an orange juice?"

"O.J. sounds great, thanks."

He accepted the plastic cup and a bag of peanuts.

"So, you going on holiday?" The stewardess was still politely smiling.

"Uh … no, actually. Back to work."

"Oh. Well, hope it all goes well."

"Thanks." Wheeler gave her a real smile this time. "And thanks for the juice."

"Can't have you going thirsty." She moved on.

Wheeler gulped back sudden tears. God, how embarrassing. Just because some random airline stewardess was kind to him. Turn off the waterworks, Yankee.

The thing about someone dying was that they left blank pages behind – words that should have been said, things that should have been done. And now never could. Wheeler couldn't even remember why he had never had the courage to fill in those blanks. The reasons had been compelling at the time, sure, but …

_Not any more_, he promised himself. _I might be a mess, but there's no way I'm going to let a little humiliation get in the way of doing what I have to do._

"Are you going to eat those?"

"Huh?" Wheeler snapped out of his reverie to see the fat man in the next seat staring at him. Or, rather, staring at the untouched bag of peanuts.

"Uh, no. Knock yourself out."

"Thanks."

Wheeler shook his head. _Can't even have a decent soliloquy without some bozo breaking in._

XXXXXXX

Ma-Ti was taking a short break from his work to meditate and recharge. He sat with his eyes closed, listening to the gentle splash of waves on the beach, and feeling the soft brush of sunlight on his eyelids.

A face shimmered into view.

"Ma-Ti."

"Gaia!" Ma-Ti opened his eyes. The face was still clearly visible. "Is there an eco-emergency?"

"Not this time." Gaia smiled. "Something significant is going to happen tomorrow. Something that I have been waiting for for a long time."

Ma-Ti's eyes widened. "Is it something I can help with, Gaia?"

"I certainly hope so." The Spirit of the Earth glowed even brighter than usual. "I have come to tell you what I need you to do."


	13. Chapter 13

Hi – sorry for the uber-long silence. I started my Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing back in December, and it has taken up all my time. I feel horribly guilty writing anything that isn't my Masters at the moment … but I wanted to finish this story. Just this chapter and one more to go, I think. I hope you enjoy it.

XXXXXXX

Wheeler landed in Suva airport, and hit the ground running. Customs, check. Baggage, check. Easy. He grinned at the burly security guards carrying their AK47s. You guys think you're scary? No way. What he had to do today was scarier than anything he had ever faced as a Planeteer.

He had to open up to Linka. He had to tell her the truth without jokes or blustering, and he had to make it good, or everything would be screwed up forever. And it was freaking him out.

So … AK47s? Not such a big priority right now.

A quick trip to the men's room. He grimaced at his bloodshot eyes and tired face in the mirror. No way he could do anything with his hair, either. That cowlick at the side wouldn't stay down no matter how much water he slapped on it. Oh well. She'd just have to see the uncensored Wheeler. The PG version, the one they didn't show to the kids. He whipped out his cellphone and dialed Kwame's number.

"Hi man. You got a minute?"

"Wheeler! You …"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I suck."

"Where are you?"

"Here."

"Of course you're here. Can you be a little more specific?"

"I mean I'm here. Your here. The here you guys are in."

A frustrated pause. "What?"  
"Fiji."

"You're in Fiji?"

"Suva, actually. What a dive, by the way."

"Well, if we'd known you were coming, we could have tidied up a little," said Kwame with dry good humour. "So you are rejoining us?"

"I am at that. You gonna reimburse me for the plane ticket?"

"Take it up with Gaia."

"Yeah, I'm rejoining you. But I kind of need another day off from duties."

"Wheeler!"

"And Linka will need one too."

"Oh." Kwame was silent for a moment. "Well, good."

"Good?"

"Yes. You two need to talk."

"Boy, do we."

"So I will see you soon?"

"Assuming I can find a taxi driver who won't mug me at gunpoint, yes."

"Okay. Keep in touch."

With a click, Kwame was gone. Wheeler pocketed his phone and left the room. First, find a taxi rank. Then have another go at getting his hair to behave.

XXXXXXX

Ma-Ti tuned into Wheeler's consciousness as subtly as he could. It felt unusually focused and strong. The Fire Planeteer was on a mission, and all his powers were coming to bear on it. Good. Gaia had asked him to try and smooth over the rough patches in today's meeting as much as he could. It was important that everything go well.

He gingerly touched Linka's consciousness. She had far more barriers than any of the other Planeteers, and had a knee-jerk reaction to any sort of probing on his part. He would have to take this very, very gently.

Ah. Yes. He felt the amorphous substance of Linka's mind. Her emotions were swirling in all directions, but they kept spiraling back to the same place. A familiar face. A blue-eyed, square-jawed, slightly arrogant face.

"She wants to trust him," said Ma-Ti to himself. "She desperately wants to trust him, but she doesn't trust herself and her own judgement. She thinks he is bound to hurt her … not even deliberately, but just through his thoughtlessness."

That was entirely understandable. Wheeler could be surprisingly sensitive on occasion, but a lot of the time he crashed through life like a bulldozer.

Ma-Ti concentrated on sending as much calm strength to Linka as he could. He pictured it as a glowing ball of golden energy that he could pour over her troubled mind like cool water on a fevered brow. He felt the wildly spiraling emotions settle into a more comfortable motion, then suddenly tense. Was she onto him? He stopped and treaded water in her consciousness until she seemed to relax again, and then continued with his work.

After a while he sighed and sat back in his meditation position. He felt drained and tired, his head aching.

"I have done all I can for now, Gaia," he said out loud. "I will keep an eye on them. But for the moment, they're on their own."

XXXXXXX

Wheeler had sent Linka a text message. He made a special effort to spell out all the words properly, because he knew she hated text-speak.

"I'm on my way now. There in half an hour. Please meet me there. We need to talk right away. XXX"

As soon as he had sent it, he started worrying about the XXXs he had tacked on the end. Would it freak her out? Probably. He never knew how much pressure to apply to Linka. Scratch that. He had a pretty good idea, but somehow he could never resist applying just a little more.

After a moment he calmed down. So what if she freaked out? There was no way he was going to sleep tonight without having had this conversation. And he did love her, and he did want to kiss her, so if the Xs gave her that impression, well, all the better.

Stop analyzing it. Just do it.

"Are you traveling alone?" asked the taxi driver suddenly.

Great. Now he's going to mug me, thought Wheeler sardonically, but said, "I'm meeting some friends."

"A pretty girlfriend?" The guy looked friendly enough.

"Yeah. Well, I hope she is. I think she might be."

The driver raised his eyebrows and swiveled his head to make eye contact. Which was nice, but technically he should be looking at the road.

"Sounds complicated."

"Oh, believe me, it is." Wheeler stared straight ahead, and after a minute the driver took the hint and looked where he was supposed to be looking. Wheeler drummed his arms on the seat. Come on. Come on. Faster.

XXXXXXX

When Linka's phone beeped, she knew who it was at once. She did not know how she knew, but she was absolutely certain. She flipped the phone open and read the message.

"Please."

Please meet him.

"Da, I will stand there waiting for the taxi like an idiot," she muttered to herself. Better to make him come to her. He was the one who needed to apologise, after all. She didn't have to meet him halfway.

And yet …

Linka felt strangely calm, strangely certain. This was the right thing. What was happening between them today was the right thing.

So maybe it wouldn't hurt to …

She glanced down at the phone again.

Well, maybe she could meet him half way.

XXXXXXX

Wheeler hopped out of the taxi, thrusting a handful of notes at the driver.

"Thanks, dude. Keep the change."

"American dollars!" the man exclaimed in delight.

"Yeah. That okay?"

"Oh yes."

The man waved as he drove away. Nice guy, thought Wheeler, but his thoughts were immediately distracted by a slender figure walking towards him. His heart seemed suddenly far too big for his rib cage, and he swallowed painfully.

Linka came to a halt in front of him. She looked fragile, thinner. There were pale mauve shadows beneath her green eyes.

"Hi," said Wheeler. He couldn't seem to look away from her face. He struggled to speak casually.

"Hi." She sounded wary.

"Um …" he ran a hand through his hair, probably making it stick up any more. "Can we go somewhere to talk?"

"You don't want to rest first? Get changed?" Her eyes flicked over his rumpled shirt.

"No. I mean, if you can deal with the less-than-perfect grooming today." He laughed nervously.

"Okay." Linka's voice was still cool, but there was something in her eyes …

"Do you know a place?"

"Are you planning to bring your luggage?"

"Um, I guess I should leave it …"

"I'll show you where we're staying," said Linka. "You can leave it there."

"And then we can …?"

"I know a place," said Linka. She turned and started walking. Wheeler followed. Not exactly encouraging, but then … there was something in the air today. Something special. Something important. He watched her walk for a moment, then broke into a run to follow her. Somehow he knew that everything was going to be all right.


	14. Chapter 14

"So

The last chapter! Bet you thought this day would never come. Sorry it has taken so long … more is in the works, I promise. Hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing this.

XXXXXXX

"So."

They had reached a rocky part of the beach where a spring of fresh water snaked out from a cluster of ferns to join the ocean just a few metres away. The sand was stained dark with the spring water, and the ferns cast a cool shadow from the hot sun. Linka sat on a rock and wrapped her arms around her knees. Every muscle in her body was tense. Wheeler ached to put his arm around her thin shoulders and give some warmth to her icy stare, but he knew that she wanted distance.

"So," Linka said again. "You wanted to talk."

"Don't be like that," said Wheeler softly.

"How do you want me to be, Yankee?" said Linka. She tried to keep a hard edge in her voice, but her eyes were sad.

"Just …" Wheeler raked a hand through his red hair. "Just listen for a sec, okay?"

Linka tilted her chin. "All right."

"Linka, I … well, I love you. You know that."

"You say you do, Yankee."

"No! It's true. It's always been you, babe. Since I insulted you for the first time."

"It is difficult to remember which particular time that was. They all blur together." Linka spoke sardonically, but Wheeler thought he saw a trace of a spark in her eyes.

"You know. When I said I liked your accent. And asked if you were from Russia."

"Soviet," Linka corrected automatically.

"Exactly! And I think what happened in New York … um, you know …" Wheeler felt his cheeks redden.

"Da." Linka's cheeks were pink too.

"Well … maybe it wasn't the best idea."

Linka's cheeks flared red with hurt. "No, perhaps it wasn't," she snapped at him, and started to get up.

"No, no! Damn." Wheeler shook his head. 'I am no not good at sensitive new-age guy stuff. What I meant is, I was a mess when we … you know … and I've been looking forward to it for such a long time – I mean, not that I expected anything, but …"

"I know what you mean, Yankee." Linka was sitting again. "Go on."

"I wasn't in the best place. You know, mentally. Emotionally. And when I blew up at you at the hospital …" Wheeler shook his head. "I am so, so sorry about that, Babe. I was a complete jerk."

Linka's eyes were soft. "You were going through something terrible."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know." Wheeler tentatively put out a hand. "And I pushed away the one person who made it bearable."

Linka's hand moved slightly as if she was going to lift it, but she decided against it and crossed her arms instead. Okay, I get it, Wheeler thought. You're hurt and you're not ready to make up yet. I figured.

"Thank you," he said.

"Thank me?" Linka's eyes widened. "For what?"

"For all your support in New York. I couldn't have done it without you."

"But you shut me out, Wheeler," said Linka. "When you left. I thought you would talk to me …"

"I know. But I apologized for that …"

"Yes, and then you shut me out again. I understand it is a difficult time, Yankee, but …" Linka swallowed, and Wheeler saw a hint of tears in her eyes. "It took me a long time to … to …trust you." She shook her head and angrily wiped her eyes. "Bozhe moy, look at me!"

"Lin …"

"And then some … some … I cannot think of the word."

"I think I can imagine it."

"Some _girl_ calls you on your phone, and I have to answer …"

"All I did was spend the night there, nothing happened."

"And I suppose you just spent the night at your old girlfriend's house, too?" Linka sniffed.

"Yes!"

Linka snorted and turned her head away. "Sure."

"Linka." Wheeler got up and sat on the rock next to her. He could feel the warmth of her body just a few inches away, but he could also feel her shrinking further away.

"What?"

"Do you really not trust me? I mean, do you really think I would be the way I am with you and then do something with not one, but two other girls? Seriously."

Linka reluctantly turned her head. Her eyes met his. Wheeler's jaw was set, and he looked very serious. She bit her lip.

"Well … no. I suppose I don't think you would do that."

Wheeler exhaled. "Good."

"But it was still very insensitive."

"Yes, it was. And I'm sorry." He gave her a tentative smile. "Hey, remember … um … afterwards, when we were talking in my bedroom? You, me and Darth Vader?"

"Da." Linka smiled despite herself.

"Remember I said it was time to break the pattern? You know, we get close, then we don't talk about it, we get into a huge misunderstanding and then fight."

"Sounds about right."

"I didn't do a good job of breaking it."

Linka sighed. "Me neither."

"Babe, I messed up. Big time. I know that. I'm hoping you can forgive me."

Linka was silent.

"Come on," Wheeler coaxed. He tilted his head to look into her eyes, and a smile was playing about the corners of his mouth. "Please. Pretty please."

Linka's mouth twitched.

"She smiles!" Wheeler exclaimed. "Does that mean there's hope?"

"Maybe."

"A word! If I get lucky, will there be a sentence in my future?"

Linka smiled reluctantly. "You are terrible, Yankee. Trying to flirt me into a good mood."

"Is it working?"

"Maybe a little. But it is still terrible."

"I know, I'm shocking." Wheeler's hand crept a little closer to hers. "But all I need is the love of a good woman."

"Oh yes? And where are you going to find this lucky woman? Or should I say unlucky."

"I have some ideas." Wheeler's hand closed around hers. Linka turned to face him properly.

"I am glad you're here," she said.

"Me too."

They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the hiss and muted roar of the surf.

"Um …" said Wheeler after a while.

Linka waited. "Da?"

"Um …" he said again.

"That isn't a word, Yankee."

"Yeah, I know … I was just wondering if it would be pushing my luck to kiss you."

"Yes it would," said Linka firmly.

"Oh." Wheeler looked crestfallen.  
"But," the Russian added, "I suppose I wouldn't be able to stop you."

"Really?"

"Really."

Wheeler leaned in closer, so close that he could feel the brush of her golden hair against his forehead, and her breath on his face. He kissed her gently, feeling the warmth of her lips as they parted beneath his. The world seemed to stop. They stayed like that for a moment, then broke apart.

"I missed you," he said.

"I missed you too."

"Naturally."

Linka punched him on the arm. "Now you really are pushing your luck!"

Wheeler kissed her again, then smiled down into her eyes. "You know, I could really get used to this."

Linka breathed a deep sigh, feeling her tension ebb away. She leaned back against Wheeler's shoulder. "I suppose we should go and find the others now. They will want to see you."

"There's no rush. I'm pretty happy right here."

"You mean you don't want to rush to them straight away and tell them that we are dating?" Linka teased. "I am surprised at you, Yankee. After all these years!"

"I don't think we should date," said Wheeler.

There was a short silence, and then Linka recoiled, her blue eyes hurt. "What? Yankee, if you have been playing a joke on me, I swear I will …"

"Hey, hey! Not so fast!" Wheeler took both her hands in his. "I don't think we should date. And you know why?"

Linka stared into his blue eyes, which had never looked bluer. "Why?"

"Because I think we should get married."

Linka stared at him.

"Hey! Babe?" Wheeler shook her. "Are you still breathing?"

"Yankee, did you … did you say what I thought …"

"Oh man." Wheeler shook his head ruefully. "I am so not good at subtle. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do it like that. I meant to do it in … I don't know, like a real fancy restaurant or something, with violins and a hundred red roses and music playing and stuff … but it just kind of came out."

"Wheeler, do you … do you mean it? I mean, have you even thought about what this means?"

"I've thought about nothing else. In fact …" Wheeler rummaged in his pocket, "I picked this up just before I left New York."

A Tiffany's box.

"Wheeler!"

Wheeler opened the box. A simple, classic diamond ring glimmered inside.

"Wheeler," Linka repeated, but this time her voice was full of wonder. "You really have thought about this."

She reached out a hand to touch the ring. Wheeler waited until her finger was nearly touching the box, and then snapped it shut.

"Yankee!" Linka was indignant.

"Sorry. Couldn't resist. Here." Wheeler lifted the ring out, and took her hand. "Oh, wait, I should probably actually ask you first, right?"

"Da. And I should probably answer."

"Good point. Okay." Wheeler knelt on the sand. "Ouch."

"What?"

"Shells." He took her hand. "Okay, here goes. Babe, I love you. I've loved you forever. You're amazing. And beautiful, and so, so smart and … just wonderful in every way. And I really think that if you don't marry me, I'm going to go completely crazy."

Linka's eyes shone with tears.

"I can't live without you. And I don't want to. So …" Wheeler cleared his throat. His voice was getting husky. "Will you marry me?"

Linka stared down at him, her green eyes full.

"Babe?" Wheeler's voice was small. "Don't keep me hanging here."

"Yes," Linka said, and gulped back tears. "Yes. Of course I will."

"Seriously?" Wheeler felt his voice breaking.

"Da. Seriously."

Wheeler stood up and held her tightly. Her cheeks were wet against his.

"Are you crying too, Yankee?"

"No!"

Linka pulled away to look up into his face, smiling. "Liar."

"Okay, I admit it." Wheeler wiped his hand across his eyes, and gave a shaky laugh. "Wow. We're getting married."

"Da," said Linka wonderingly. "We are."

"Wow," said Wheeler again. They stared into each other's eyes for a minute, then burst out laughing.

"Oh Wheeler," said Linka, wiping her eyes. "This I can say for you – you are never boring."

"And you're stuck with me now," Wheeler laughed.

"Yes." Linka's eyes were soft. She reached up and put her arms around his neck. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"Were you planning to kiss me now?"

"Actually, yes." Wheeler touched his mouth to hers. Linka made a small noise and drew him closer into a long kiss that seemed to exist somewhere outside of normal time. Finally they broke apart with a sigh.

"We should go and tell the others," said Linka.

"Yeah!" Wheeler jumped up. "I can't wait to see their faces. Come on!" He grabbed Linka's hand and pulled her towards the Planeteers' camp.

"Slow down, Yankee!"

"Whoa." Wheeler stopped in his tracks. There was a strange shimmering in the air in front of him, which solidified into a regal female form.

"Gaia!" Wheeler put an arm around Linka. "Man, have we got some news for you."

"I know," said Gaia, smiling. "I have been waiting for this for a very long time."

She held out her hands to them both, and they felt a warmth and certainty flood their bodies.

"I know you will be happy together," she said, "because I have seen it. All my love is with you both."

Wheeler and Linka smiled at her, then at each other. Linka looked a little shy, but squeaked when Wheeler pulled her into a bear hug.

"Yankee!" she beat her fists against his back. "Put me down!"

"Never."

"We have our whole lives to do this, but right now we have to go find the others!"

"Our whole lives. I like the sound of that."

"No need to find the other Planeteers," said Gaia, smiling. "They are coming to you."

Three familiar shapes were coming into view further down the beach.

"Come on, babe."

"I'm right behind you, Yankee."

Wheeler took Linka by the hand, and they ran across the sand towards their friends.


End file.
